In Another Life
by black-rose495
Summary: Eleanor Cousland is sick of her mother trying to get her to marry, but something about this man is making her think twice. Unfortunately for her things are never simple. AU of the Dragon Age world.
1. Chapter 1

She awoke to the sound of birds outside her window, the sunlight streaming in and warming up her bed. She opened her eyes to find the servants quietly busying around her room, opening the curtains, emptying her chamber pot, and Maker knows whatever else they did. She sat up and stretched, enjoying the sun's warmth on her skin, a small smile gracing her lips.

_Eleanor? Eleanor, are you awake?_

She sighed, her good mood vanishing at the calling of her name. "Yes mother." She grabbed her robe and headed towards the door, grumbling to herself as she walked. She opened the door and stared sleepily at her mother, rubbing her eyes to try and clear her vision. "What is it?" she mumbled.

"Good morning to you too," she said sarcastically. "I just wanted to make sure you were awake. The King will be here soon and I need you looking your best."

Eleanor rolled her eyes. _Great! Someone else she's going to try and marry me off to. _"Well I'm awake mother and don't worry, I'll be ready for _his Royal Majesty_," she said, bowing with a twirl of her wrist in an overly dramatic manner.

Lady Cousland scowled at her, wishing the Maker had granted her with a less annoying daughter, then left her to get ready.

Eleanor sighed when her mother was gone, closing her bedroom door and collapsing on the bed, dreading the day ahead of her. _Time to be presented to yet another stuck up noble again. Maker, how I loathe days like this. _

A quiet knock on the door sounded and her lady-in-waiting entered. Eleanor sat at her dressing table, eager to get this over with. The elf automatically began brushing her hair, plaiting the long curls and then wrapping the finished plait into a tight bun. She hated wearing her hair like this. She had tried cutting it all off once, but her mother had shouted at her all day for it and so from then on she refused to touch it, preferring instead to let it get so unruly that no one would want to look at her. Her lady-in-waiting began applying rouge to her cheeks next, a soft pink that made her seem far too feminine for her liking. She hated wearing makeup, preferring instead to go without the stuff. When the elf was done, she let her dress her in a red and pink silk dress, lined with silver thread. Eleanor fidgeted awkwardly as the elf laced her into it, complaining when she pulled the corset too tight, causing her to sputter and cough from lack of air.

Eleanor headed downstairs, already dreading the day ahead. Days like this bored her, being put on parade for some stuck-up noble after her hand – and her father's wealth of course. She strolled around the castle, trying to avoid her mother who would undoubtedly take her to meet the _King of Ferelden. _Urgh. King or not, she just knew she wouldn't like him. She never liked the men her parents – or in actuality her mother – picked out for her to meet. They were always one of two things: pansies or brutes. As for this King, he was probably old and ugly and…

A young man in the training yard caught her attention. He was blonde and rather muscular, wearing simple, medium armour. The man was sparring with Ser Gilmore, wielding his sword and shield with impressive skill. He quickly bested Gilmore, knocking him to the ground and pointing his sword at his throat. Gilmore accepted defeat, smiling falsely at his combatant, then accepted the man's helping hand and stood up, dusting himself off. Eleanor smirked, glad to finally see someone beat the man. He'd been getting far too cocky lately, ever since he'd found out the Grey Wardens were interested in him. _Let them have the idiot._

"Come now Ser Gilmore, surely you won't let one man beat you?" she shouted to him, forgetting about the young man's presence and treating him like she would do in private. "Why, if he can beat you, perhaps I can? Although, we both know anyway that I can. After all, I have kicked your arse many times before." She retrieved her practice swords from the rack and twirled them in the air, reacclimatising herself with them, then held them out in front of her in a challenging stance. "Care to spar with me Gilly?"

The men in the yard jeered, taunting him, daring him to accept her proposition lest he look like a coward. "Very well Eleanor, if you insist. But don't complain when I ruin your pretty dress."

As if to spite him, she tore at the skirts of her dress, freeing her legs. "Oh, I won't complain. My mother on the other hand…" she said, lunging at him, making him dodge out of the way. They swung at each other, lunging and parrying, each strike precise and powerful. After a while they began to tire, Eleanor due to her corset, Gilmore due to his previous fight. Gilmore landed a close blow on her, slashing through the laces of her corset, the garment falling to the ground. The men in the yard stared it in horror. "Ahhh, much better. Now I can breathe. Thank you Gilly." She lunged at the man, using his shock to her advantage, and threw him off balance. Seizing the opportunity, she kicked him in the chest, flooring him, and knelt on top of him, her blade at his throat.

"_Eleanor!_ What in the Maker's name are you doing? And what happened to your dress? And your _corset_? Maker, forgive her your Majesty."

Eleanor turned around to see her mother staring at her, wide-eyed with shock, her face as bright and red as her hair.

_Shit. _

"What are you waiting for? Get off Ser Gilmore this _instant. _I really am sorry your Majesty, she's not normally like this."

"You don't say," drawled the young man sarcastically. "And please, 'your Majesty' is so formal. Call me Alistair."

"But your Ma – "

"I insist, Lady Cousland."

"Wait," interrupted Eleanor. "_You're_ our guest? The King?" Her cheeks flared, the line between her face and hair blurring. She brushed down her skirts, mortified that she was meeting the King of Ferelden, this young, handsome man, in a ruined silk dress. "Maker, I should change."

"Yes."

"No need," said the King, interrupting Lady Cousland. "It's nice to see a lady who can fight for a change." He held out his hand to her, "I'm Alistair Theirin, King of Ferelden, pleased to make your acquaintance. And you must be Lady Cousland's daughter, Eleanor."

"I – uh, yes, I am. Eleanor, I mean," she took his hand, suddenly realising she was supposed to shake it. "I really am sorry about my lack of clothing your Majesty. I'll go change right now." Before he could say otherwise she had bolted from the yard and ran back to her room.

She slammed the door behind her, leaning against it and panting heavily. _I can't believe I just did that! In front of the King! _

_I thought you didn't like him? _she reminded herself.

_I didn't, but then I saw him fight. Clearly he's not some stuffed up pompous old nobleman. _

_But your mother still intends for you to be married to him._

She sighed and shook her head, clearing her thoughts. No, she did not want to marry. She wanted to fight and become a skilled warrior like Loghain Mac Tir. She wanted to be her own woman, not some simpering nobleman's wife. She wanted to be free to make her own choices in life and not be scolded each step of the way by her mother.

_But…he's not a simpering noble. He's Alisitair Theirin, vanquisher of the Blight, skilled warrior and dare I say, rather handsome. _

Eleanor growled in frustration and threw herself on the bed, hiding her head in her pillow and screaming. Why was she so confused? She was never confused. She was decisive and bold and courageous. But confused? Never.

That man. It was his fault. He turned up here, in _her_ home, after _her_ hand, and made her…a simpering pile of mush.

Maker, she would be glad if she never saw the King of Ferelden again.

_Eleanor? May we talk?_

Eleanor raised her head from her pillow and stared at the door in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me," she muttered.

_Nope, I'm not. Now may we _please_ talk, preferably face to face._

Reluctantly, Eleanor got off the bed, grabbed her robe, then opened the door. "Your Majesty," she smiled weakly. "To what do I owe this honour?"

"I – uh – I was going to ask if you'd take a walk with me and show me around the grounds, but I see you are currently in the process of changing," he stammered slightly, his cheeks blushing, the King making an obvious attempt to not look down.

She wrapped her robe tighter around her, once again aware of her lack of formal clothing. "I'm afraid I already dismissed my lady-in-waiting and so have no one to help me both in and out of my dresses."

"I really was looking forward to talking to you Lady Cousland."

"Well I suppose I have something else, but mother will hate it, as may you…"

The King offered her a winning smile. "Try me," he said before moving away from her door. "I'll meet you out in the hall shall I?"

Cursing, Eleanor closed the door and walked over to her armour stand, staring at the piece with indecision. Finally she said, "Shit," before taking the armour from the stand and laying it on the bed. She finished cutting herself out of her dress, figuring it was already ruined anyway, then pulled on her tunic and trousers before strapping herself into her armour. When she was done she pulled at the pins in her hair, mumbling, "In for a copper, in for a sovereign." She undid the tight bun, running her fingers through her hair and brushing out her long curls.

With a final gulp, Eleanor opened the door and joined the King of Ferelden. He grinned his approval when he saw her coming, then as quickly as he'd done so he composed himself again, a small smile replacing his brilliant grin.

"And you thought I'd hate this…why?" he asked, a joking tone in his voice.

_What a strange man. _"Come your Grace. Let's start over here shall we?" she said, indicating to a room down the hall, leading the way with a faint blush on her cheeks.

* * *

"And this is the library," said Eleanor, trying to sound enthusiastic and failing miserably.

"Really? I couldn't tell," smirked Alistair. Eleanor scowled at him briefly before reigning herself in and composing herself. "Sorry, carry on."

Eleanor opened her mouth to continue, then snapped it shut. "You know what, I think our tour is done, your Grace." She turned to leave, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Wait! I'm sorry. I haven't been behaving very nobly. Please accept my humblest apologies." He bowed to her, remaining there until Eleanor tutted and told him to get up. "Please, may I have a second chance? I promise I'll be good."

Lady Cousland sighed, giving in. "You're a very strange man you know."

"So I've been told." He edged slightly closer to her, "I really was serious about wanting to talk to you, you know. And well, we haven't exactly been able to do that on this _riveting_ tour. Is there somewhere we could talk properly?"

"I…sure. Follow me your Grace."

Alistair sighed, insisting she called him Alistair. Eleanor smirked and bit her lip. _So he doesn't like his title? Oh, this could be fun._

She guided him through the grounds until they reached a small courtyard. In it were a few stone benches with plants growing around them, a modest water fountain with a statue of Andraste at the top, and not much else. It was quiet there, but public enough that her mother couldn't complain about impropriety too much.

They sat on one of the benches, as far apart as the little stone bench would allow. Eleanor tried to remember how her mother had taught her to sit, but came up short, her armour thwarting any possibility of sitting properly with it's bulky frame.

She felt exposed somehow, despite her armour. Here she was, sat with this man, the King, all alone. Maker, she was terrified.

He fidgeted awkwardly, wringing his hands, scratching the back of his head. Eleanor could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks, even with the distance between them. She sat as patiently as she could, trying to ignore the hammering of her heart in her chest and the thrumming in her ears.

"Your armour is finely made Lady Cousland. Is that Dragonbone?" He was reaching now, trying to fill the awkward silence. So much for talking.

She laughed, "I'm afraid not your Grace. It's merely Red Steel. Dragonbone is hard to acquire for those of us who haven't slayed dragons."

"Yes, I suppose so," chuckled Alistair. "Sorry, you seem like the sort who could take down a dragon, that's all. It is still finely made, thought I wonder, do you get to test it often?"

"Unfortunately not. The battlefield is no place for a woman, as my mother often reminds me."

Alistair scoffed, "Do you always listen to your mother?"

"If I listened to my mother, would you have seen me fighting Ser Gilmore without a corset? Or would you be talking to me in private right now?"

They smiled knowingly at each other. _She certainly is feisty, I'll give her that. _"I suppose not."

"There you are! Mother's been going crazy." Fergus stood in the courtyard, panting heavily and red faced. He saw Alistair next to Eleanor and bowed, "Your Majesty, excuse us a minute. I need a word with my sister. _Alone_."

She excused herself and followed her brother out of the courtyard, biting her lip nervously as she walked. _Shit. He's gonna kill me. _

"Mother is going to murder you."

"I know."

"You're wearing armour."

"I know."

"You know, do you? Well that makes it all better then, doesn't it?" said Fergus sarcastically, his annoyance barely masked behind his voice. "Maker Eleanor, what are you playing at? First the scene in the training yard and now this. Are you trying to cause a scandal?" When his sister didn't answer he continued, "I mean look at you. You're wearing armour for some strange reason and your hair," he sighed, "You know you're supposed to have it up when we have company."

"And you know how much I hate a lot of the things I'm _supposed _to do. Like stay quiet and pretend I'm some delicate flower. Like wear dresses and makeup. Like – "

"Like not tearing off your corset in front of the King and beating our best Knight in a sparring match?"

"Touché," said Eleanor, her cheeks flaring. "I didn't do it to cause a scene Fergus. You know what I'm like. I just…I don't want to marry. You know better than anyone that I'd rather fight with you and father."

He placed a hand on his sister' shoulder, "I know. But we also know that will never happen, especially if mother has anything to say about it, which she does unfortunately." He regarded her attire once more, "You'd better go chance, before mother sees you. Better yet, maybe you should stay in your room until the King leaves, just in case. We don't want mother to die from shock, do we?"

Reluctantly Eleanor nodded her agreement, then turned her back on the courtyard and headed to her room once more, ignoring the strange looks the servants gave her when she walked past. She quickly shirked her armour, sobbing once it was off, wondering what in the Maker's name was wrong with her. She felt...disappointed? At what? Not getting to say goodbye to the King? In herself for making such a fool of herself today? In feeling something other than distaste for this man? Maker, she was losing it. And because of what, some man? This was not her, not at all.

She spent the rest of the day cooped up in her room, trying to pass the hours of boredom as quick as possible. She tried reading, but found herself unable to stay focused, so instead she retrieved her lute from beside her bed and slumped in her favourite chair and played. It was the one thing her mother had had her learn that she actually enjoyed. It was a sort of guilty pleasure of hers, something private that only she heard. She was decent too, if she compared herself to the bards she'd heard at other banquets and balls – not as good as them, but not much worse.

When the King was finally gone, Fergus came to fetch her. Lost in her music she didn't hear him knock, instead starting when he was suddenly stood next to her. "Mother wants to see you," he said, his face grim. _Great. That means I'm in trouble. _

Eleanor set down her lute, "She's pissed isn't she?"

"You know she is."


	2. Chapter 2

**Well I finally managed to finish chapter and my creative muse seems to have woken up again, so hopefully I'll actually keep working on this new. **

* * *

Eleanor was pissed off. Not only had her mother confiscated her weapons and armour, but she had been to publically apologise to Ser Gilmore as well as anyone who saw her the other day. And that was only the tip of the iceberg. She had had to write a formal apology to the King, stating that she wasn't in her right mind the other day and how terribly sorry she was for behaving is such a way. She had also had to beg that he find it in his heart to forgive her and give her a second chance.

What a load of bullshit. If only her mother knew the truth. Sure, this man was the King, but he didn't act like one. At least, like none of the previous kings. He actually interacted with people and took an interest in them. When she'd shown him around the grounds he hadn't been dull and polite, he had been honest and sarcastic with her. He was certainly intriguing, she'd give him that.

Eleanor sat in front of the fire, book in hand, pretending to read it. She couldn't get him out of her head. Why? Why him? Why could she not stop thinking about him? She'd spent the last week with her head in the clouds, her mind on him even in sleep. He had slowly begun edging his way into her dreams, plaguing her while she slept. She hated it. If she hadn't been confined to her room for most of her time she would have been questioned about it. Luckily for her, her mother had made her bedroom the most interesting place for her, not that she had anything fun to do in there either.

She shook her head to try and clear her mind. _Maker, I think I'm going insane._

* * *

A few days passed before her mother finally returned her swords to her, along with her armour. Eleanor tried to contain her excitement at their recovery, only to fail miserably and jumped for joy, swords in hand.

"Yes, well I wouldn't have given you them back yet, but I'm afraid I had little choice. The King has requested you accompany him on a hunting trip. Maker only knows why. It's no place for a lady." She eyed her daughter suspiciously, "What did you do? Other than cause a scene that is."

"I…He asked me to give him a tour of the grounds, but after the incident in the training yard the only clothing I had readily available was my armour, so I put that on and showed him around the castle. That's all."

Lady Cousland's eyes narrowed, "That's all? What about the fact that you were missing a chaperone, or the fact that you were not in a fit state to be seen? What about the fact that you were _alone _with this man, King or not? Do you know what would happen if word got out? People would think you were…oh, I can't even say the word."

"A whore."

Teyrna Cousland scowled at her daughter. "Exactly. And if people think _that _then you'll never be married to anyone, King or not."

"I think you're exaggerating a little mother," protested Eleanor.

She was cut off quickly, "We both know I am not exaggerating. Gossip can ruin a person's reputation in seconds." She sighed and waved off the subject, "But enough. You have to get ready. Go…shine your armour and sharpen your swords and whatever else it is you do."

Eleanor practically skipped back to her room, ignoring her mother shouting, "At least let Arryn help you" behind her. The elf would try and preen her to her mother's standards, she just knew it. She hated her mother's standards.

It felt good to have her swords back, their weight comforting in her hands. They were fine blades, made from Red Steel like her armour, with leather wrapped around the hilt. She quickly began sharpening them with a whetstone, the action familiar and soothing. A hunting trip. She could do that. A chance to get out and use her swords.

* * *

"I still don't know how you got invited out by the King. After the scene you made – "

"Dear, stop complaining. Our daughter is going hunting with the _King_. That is a honour enough and _clearly_ shows that the 'scene' you say she made has not put him off. If anything, I think the fact he saw her sparring bode well in her favour."

"If you're quite done talking about me like I'm not here…" huffed Eleanor. She finished securing her swords in their sheaths and prepared to mount her horse. It was a fine beast, a present from her father when she came of age, with hair as black as night.

Her father held out another weapon for her: a cross bow. "Here. You'll need it." When she didn't take it straight away he said, "Go on pup, take it. I know you know how to use it – I've seen you take it off the stand and fire it plenty of times." Eleanor took it reluctantly, knowing how important his crossbow was to him. It was a fine weapon made from Sylvanwood with intricate carvings decorating its frame, which she had lusted after for many years. And now it sat in her hands. She nodded her thanks to her father and secured it to her back, then tied the quiver to her back as well, adjusting it all until it sat comfortably on her.

Teyrna Cousland began fussing over her daughter, grooming her hair, earning a loud sigh from the red-head. "Mother, I'm going to be riding on a horse through a forest. My hair is going to come out of place, despite Arryn's _brilliant _work."

She resisted the urge to shout at her daughter, instead telling her to get on her horse and enjoy herself and be good and –

Eleanor stopped listening once she was on her horse. She was eager to see the King again. Ever since seeing him fight she had been intrigued by the man, and as luck would have it, her mother was eager to see her married to him. Which was why she was now on her way to join the King on a private hunting trip in his grounds.

She was eager to show him her skill with a weapon, his approval very encouraging that he wasn't just some dim-witted idiot who only wanted a trophy wife and her father's money. _At least this time I'll be wearing clothes, _she thought, cringing at the memory of her fight with Ser Gilmore, her ripped dress and discarded corset, at the memory of wearing armour casually around the castle.

The King's guards were waiting for her at the gate to Highever. The ride to Denerim was silent and awkward. The men escorting her to her destination were definitely not talkers, the two armour clad men clearly wishing they were doing something else. A few times, Eleanor tried to break the tension by cracking a joke, but each time the men ignored her attempts. On horseback they quickly reached their destination, a small wooded area just south of Denerim, clearly intended for private use.

The King was waiting for her when she arrived, his own collection of guards stood to attention. He dismissed the guards when she stopped her horse near his, telling them he was very well capable of looking after himself and he highly doubted his guest was going to assassinate him. After a moment's hesitation they left, presumably to lurk somewhere nearby just in case.

"Sorry about them," he chuckled awkwardly. "I have to bring them with me. You know, since I'm King and all."

Eleanor laughed with him. Maker, what was she supposed to do now? She starting wishing she'd actually paid more attention to her mother when she made her learn how to be a lady, how to act around noble men, although she doubted that would be much help in this situation.

She realised suddenly he was looking at her expectantly. "Shall we?" he repeated, gesturing to the expanse of trees ahead of them. She nodded her consent and let him lead the way, following closely behind.

They rode in silence, Eleanor's cheeks burning so much she swore they were actually on fire. Maker, why was she acting like this? She was normally so confident, so defiant, yet here she was, blushing over some _guy_.

After what seemed like an eternity of awkward silence, the King slowed his horse so he was next to Eleanor. "I must say, I admire a woman who isn't afraid to come hunting. Or even knows how to hunt for that matter. Maybe noble women don't care for it."

She smirked, "My mother hates it. She thinks my brother and father have had too much of an influence on me."

The King laughed, "I bet she does. Clearly you're not against it though."

"No your Majesty, I'm not. In fact, it find it rather enjoyable, when done properly."

"Please, call me Alistair. Your Majesty is so _formal_. I can't stand it."

She smiled shyly, her blush growing. "As you wish…Alistair."

A bark sounded in the distance, signalling the mabari had found some animal for them to kill. They chased after the sound, glad for the distraction. Maybe Eleanor would stop blushing if she killed a deer.

As it turned out, she did. She aimed her father's crossbow, the bolt making its mark, and killed the deer in one shot. She dismounted her horse to inspect her kill and make sure it was truly dead, Alistair watching on, impressed. It made a change to see a woman who could handle herself, who wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty.

She turned and smiled at the King – Alistair, glad that her shot had been so good, smug when she saw the appreciative look on his face. He noticed she was staring at him and blushed slightly. She giggled, hiding behind her horse to try and mask her amusement. _He was staring at me. At _me_. Maker, what if he likes me? _

_Andraste's arse Eleanor, listen to yourself! Since when were you a simpering little girl?_

_Since the King of Ferelden, a young, attractive man, took an interest in me, that's when. Have you seen him?! _

She shook her head, clearing her mind, and mounted her horse, gesturing for him to lead the way again. They rode together again, a little bolder now. "If you like Alistair," said Eleanor, "I'll let you kill the next animal we find. You know, since I beat you to the last one." She smirked at him wickedly, forgetting for a moment that this man was King. She felt so at ease with him, like she'd known him for years.

Apparently, Alistair's skill with a crossbow was somewhat lacking. It took him three attempts to hit the deer, none of which were accurate enough to down the animal. Deciding to put the creature out of its misery, she shot it in the throat. It collapsed instantly, its pained cries at last cut off.

The King scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. "Yes, well…shall we pretend that that didn't happen?"

"Oh no, that happened," teased Eleanor.

He steered his horse closer to hers. "In my defence, I never claimed to be any good with a crossbow."

"Neither did I," she winked.

Alistair stared at her, his eyes narrowed slightly, surprised that she would so openly challenge him. She was certainly as fiery as her hair, he'd give her that. He wondered what it was really like. Why noble women thought wearing it fancy hairstyles was appealing he'd never know.

As if she could read his mind, Eleanor began fussing with her hair, tugging at the plaited bun pinned tightly on her head. She growled in frustration, sighing when her efforts did nothing to ease the incessant itching.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, trying not to laugh.

"It's these blighted pins! Maker, I hate these things!" She ripped the pins out of her hair, undoing the plait and running her fingers through her hair to comb it. She sighed in relief, glad to let her hair down. A stifled laugh followed by a series of coughs. Eleanor glared at the King. He bit down on his knuckles, clearly trying not to burst out laughing again, but it did little to help and soon he was laughing again.

Eleanor clicked, telling her horse to walk on, deciding not to attack the King, lest she get executed for it. She heard hooves following behind her. "I'm sorry Eleanor. I shouldn't have laughed. It's just…" She whipped her head around to stare at him, making him pause briefly. "Are you always like this?"

She glared at him in silence, biting her tongue. _Don't do it Eleanor. Don't shout at him. Just keep your hands on the reigns and your mouth shut. _

"You're a peculiar woman you know.

"So I've been told by _many_ people, though you're first the King to tell me it. And the first ginger actually. At least Gilly has enough sense to keep his mouth shut," said Eleanor, cursing mentally. Damn her tongue. Father always said it would land her in trouble.

"Hey, I resent that comment. I'm _strawberry blonde, _not ginger." Eleanor scoffed, not buying his claim. He was ginger, like her, whether he liked it or not. "Are you always this frank with people?"

"Only with people I like. Or don't like. You know what, yes I guess I _am_ always this frank, but that's just what I'm like."

Alistair smirked, "Does that mean you like me then?" He laughed when she blushed, embarrassed that he'd picked up on _that_ of all things. "I'll take that as yes, shall I?"

Eleanor shook her head in an attempt to rid herself of the seemingly permanent blush on her cheeks. "Nonsense," she said, her composure returned. "I only like men who can handle a weapon, and after that shoddy display with the crossbow, well, I don't know if I could ever like you."

The King placed hand over his heart, feigning injury. "I may be shoddy with a crossbow, but that does not mean I cannot handle a weapon." A determined look crossed his face and hardened his eyes. He jumped down from his horse and drew his blade. Eleanor looked at him in disbelief. "Come on," he said loudly. "Let's see how good you are."

Eleanor remained on her horse, torn. The King wanted to spar with her. She didn't know what to do. On one hand she was thrilled by the opportunity, eager to prove herself to him. On the other hand, she didn't want to make a fool of herself. She'd seen him fight in person and she had to admit, he was good. _But how good…? I guess there's only one way to find out._

Determined not to back down from his challenge, she dismounted from her horse and strode over to him, drawing her swords as she walked. She twirled them in her hands, excited to duel the man. _Don't cock this up Eleanor. Your pride is at stake here._


	3. Chapter 3

Alistair was definitely capable with a sword, that much was certain. A few times he had gotten close to beating her, something few men did, but each time she fought back, determined to keep going.

She looked beautiful, her fiery hair billowing when she spun and twirled, highlighting the determined look in her eyes. It was hard not to get distracted by her, but he would not let a woman beat him. _There's worse women to get beaten by. _A few times he thought he had her, but each time she came back with renewed determination. He had to give it to her, he was impressed.

But he was built for endurance. This is what he did. He stayed strong while his opponent tired themselves out. And that is exactly what was happening. Her strikes were becoming gradually weaker, less precise. He began directing her towards a tree, backing her into a corner. She seemed oblivious to the fact as she let herself be corralled. Soon enough, her back was against the tree, his sword at her throat, his face inches from hers.

"I guess this answers the question of whether or not I like you, doesn't it?" joked Eleanor breathlessly. Maker, he was so close to her, his lips inches away from hers, if that. She could feel the heat radiating from him, see the sweat dripping off his forehead. She hoped her humour masked her nerves.

"So she finally admits it." Alistair removed his blade from her throat, but stayed where he was, his arms pinning her in place. "You are a unique woman Eleanor. Beautiful, feisty, courageous…How has no one snapped you up yet?"

She bit her lip, "Because I speak my mind. And because I know more about blades than the average nobleman does."

"But I'm not your average nobleman," he inched closer to her.

"No, you're not," she breathed. He was getting closer, her eyes fixed on his mouth, her tongue snaking out to wet her lips. "You're the King of Ferelden."

Alistair sighed, "I do wish you'd stop seeing me as that."

"But that's who you are."

"I am also a slayer of dragons, a lover of cheese, and apparently ginger, yet those things do not define me. The royalty thing does. I can't control my bloodline Eleanor. But I can control my life – usually – and right now, I'd like to take control of this certain aspect."

Before Eleanor could comprehend his meaning he was upon her, his lips crashing against hers. She remained unresponsive at first, the shock of his actions leaving her as still as a statue. _Is he…? He can't be? He is! Oh fuck it… _She gave into him, her lips melting against his. _No…what would mother say. Fuck mother. NO! _Eleanor shoved against his chest, the two of them separating reluctantly and panting.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that," said Alistair in between breaths. _Stupid stupid stupid! _

Eleanor shook her head, "Don't apologise. It was nice, even if it was improper." Maker, it felt like her cheeks were on fire. She risked a glance at the King and found his face was as red as her hair as well.

He stared at her in disbelief. What had she done to him, this fiery temptress with a passion to match? She was so bold, so different to all the other women he'd met. He was fascinated by her. "I really am sorry," he said quietly.

"Don't be," she closed the small distance between them and placed her hand on his chest, a sudden boldness filling her. "I liked it." Her lips turned up in a small smile, her eyes shining with confidence and defiance.

A bark sounded from nearby. The King sighed and moved away from Eleanor, her hand falling to her side. The barking grew more insistent. "Alright you stupid dog, we're coming," grumbled Alistair. _Mangy mutt. Talk about timing._ Wanting to shut the dog up he followed the sound of the barking until he found the mabari barking insistently at a tree. "There's nothing here boy." He grabbed the hound's collar and pulled him away, "Come on. We're hunting deer, not birds." The dog whined as he was dragged away, barking at the tree even when Alistair blocked it.

"Is he okay?" asked Eleanor. "They don't normally act out unless something's wrong."

The King shook his head, "He's just having an off day, aren't you boy?" Eleanor knelt and scratched behind the hound's ears. He seemed to think something was wrong, even if Alistair didn't. Having had a mabari for most of her life Eleanor knew that if they thought something was wrong, there was.

She stood up, "I really do think we should check it out."

It all happened in a blur after that. Eleanor remembered a look of terror washing over Alistair's face and a faint twang sounding somewhere nearby. A stab of pain shot out underneath her heart, which spread throughout her entire body. She didn't know how, but somehow she found herself on the floor, face down in the dirt, coughing up blood. Faintly she heard Alistair shouting to his men, barking orders in true kingly style. The mabari went crazy, barking relentlessly. Metal boots clattered around her. Silence.

_Mother was right. Hunting is no place for a lady. _

* * *

"Can't you just send her home? We've bandaged her up. Send her home Alistair."

"No. This is my fault, so it is my responsibility to make sure she is in good health when she returns home. Right now she is not, therefore she stays. End of discussion Eamon." The King crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the noble. He was not going to back down. This was his fault and the least he could do was take care of the girl while she was nursed back to health.

Eamon sighed, "Fine your Grace, if you insist. It doesn't mean I like this though. You hardly know the girl. This is improper."

"Impropriety be damned! She got _shot_ because of me. I think that's more 'improper' than housing her until she's well. Now _enough_. I'm going to check on her. The healer said she woke up. I was on my way to visit her before you so rudely cornered me."

Before Eamon could say another word Alistair had turned his back on the nobleman and headed up to the guest rooms. The healer was still in her room when he arrived, checking over her wound and changing her bandages. Alistair waited outside until the mage left and nodded to him, filling him in on her current status.

"She'll be fine. I managed to extract the poison before it could reach her heart and do any real damage. The arrow wound should heal up nicely. She just needs plenty of rest so she doesn't reopen in."

Alistair nodded his thanks then quietly knocked on her door. A weak voice admitted him entrance.

She looked much better now the healer had treated her. The blood was gone from her face and chest – not that he was looking – and the colour was returning to her pale cheeks. Her hair had been tied out of the way, but strands were plastered to her face with sweat and old makeup. Her chest was bound in fresh bandages and a stack of soft pillows supported her weight and helped her to sit up in bed.

She smiled weakly when she saw Alistair. "Your grace."

"I think we can safely say we're on first name terms now Eleanor." He grabbed a chair and sat down next to the bed. "You saved my life."

Eleanor looked at him puzzled, "I don't understand."

"That arrow you took was intended for me. It seems its marksman wasn't such a good shot. My men captured the elf responsible and currently have him detained awaiting trial."

"Aren't you worried that an assassin came after you?" asked Eleanor, her eyebrows shooting up into her hairline in surprise.

He shrugged, "He's not the first to try and I'm sure he won't be the last. A lot of nobles weren't happy when I took to the throne. They claim I'm not entitled to it. I'm more entitled to it than they are. My father was King Maric for Andraste's sake! I've seen more battles than most of them combined. I know what I'm doing. Yet still they send assassin's after me." He stopped suddenly and took a deep breath, "Sorry. I'm just sick of the attempts on my life. They get annoying, you know."

"If I say yes agree with you will you calm down? My head is killing me." She winced at the noise, his voice suddenly very loud. It felt like an ogre was pounding its way out of her head.

"Actually that was the poison – sorry, I couldn't resist." He smiled at her, hoping she didn't mind his poor joke. If there was one thing he was good at it was hiding behind humour. "How do you feel?"

"I've been better," she chuckled weakly. "My head is pounding and my chest hurts, but other than that I don't feel too bad. Though, I think that's 'cause your healer's pumped me full of morphine."

Alistair scratched the back of his head awkwardly, "Yes, he does do that quite a bit. But it will make you feel better, trust me."

"Trust you?" she scoffed. "I took a poisoned arrow for you – albeit unknowingly, but still, I took it for you all the same."

"I know, and you have my eternal thanks. Which is why you will stay here as my guest until you are well enough to return home." Eleanor opened her mouth to protest, but he held up his hand, "I insist. It's my fault you're in this state so I want to make sure you're well again. And…" he paused a moment, as if weighing up if he should continue, "I want to make it up to you. When you're well enough I'd like to invite you to dinner, if that's okay with you."

She stared at him in disbelief. "Of course it is," she said quietly. _What else can I say? 'No'? I'm in his home, in the Royal Palace. Shit…I'm in the Royal Palace. Oh, if only mother could see me now. _"Wait. What about my parents? They must be worried sick!"

He waved a dismissive hand, "Already taken care of. I sent a message to them saying that you took a fall during our trip and will be staying in my care until you are better."

"A fall? Is that what this is?" she asked, an amused smirk on her face. _Like father will believe I fell off my horse. _

Alistair shrugged, "It's either that or you tell them an assassin shot you while aiming for me. I don't know about you, but I think I know which one sounds better. I doubt they'd let you near me again if they knew that you got shot because of me."

Eleanor picked up on his choice of words. "So, you like being near me? You know, I wonder if you hired this 'assassin' just to keep me close to you." She winked playfully, ignoring the pulsing in her head at the gesture. Truth be told she was secretly glad to be staying in his company for a while. Despite herself she liked him, something completely new to her. She never liked men, not as more than friends. But this man, he was different. There was something about him that fascinated her.

The King blushed, "Don't be absurd Eleanor. If I so desperately craved your company I could simply command it…not that I would. Though I must say, I do enjoy your company."

"Well, it looks like you'll be seeing plenty of me then. My company, I mean. Oh Maker." Eleanor sank down the bed until the sheets covered her burning face, ignoring the tugging pain in her chest and Alistair's warning about pulling open her wound. "I'm just gonna hide here and pretend I didn't say that, okay?"

Alistair chuckled, "Okay. I'll leave you to hide then. I'll come and check on you later, my lady." He stood up and bowed before leaving the room, smirking at the embarrassment on Eleanor's face.

_Just remember your place Alistair. You're the King and she's a noblewoman. Don't get ahead of yourself._


	4. Chapter 4

"This really isn't necessary Alistair. I can manage myself."

"Nonsense," protested the King, spoon in hand.

Eleanor moved out of the way of him and his insistent spoon. "No, really, I can manage myself. Just put the spoon down and walk away."

"You're acting like a child," he scoffed, forcing the spoon into her mouth. Eleanor let out a cry of pain and batted the offending spoon away. Alistair looked at her puzzled, "What? What did I do?"

Eleanor grabbed a handful of tissues from beside her and wiped herself down, "That soup was scolding hot. I told you to let me do it myself, but did you listen? No. And now my mouth is burnt and I have soup down me. Great."

Without thinking Alistair gathered another wad off tissues and began patting down Eleanor's top. After a moment he realised where he was patting and slowly his hands stilled. He stared at his hands, his cheeks beginning to burn as Eleanor cleared her throat awkwardly. As quick as he'd offered his help he withdrew his hands, pulling them away like he'd stuck them in a fire. "I'm sorry. I – Maker I didn't mean to – Is it hot in here?"

"Yes, but I think that's more the soup than anything," she joked, trying not to comment on where his hands had recently been patting. Truth be told she hadn't minded, but her sense told her it was indecent and improper for anyone's hands to be there, let alone a man she hardly knew. He meant well, even if he was terribly clumsy and bashful.

Realising it was better if he let her feed herself, Alistair handed the spoon to a now clean Eleanor and leaned back in his chair. She thanked him then quietly began eating, trying to ignore the fact that he was watching her eat. But try as she might she simply could not feel comfortable with the fact that the King of Ferelden was sat by her bed, watching her eat a bowl of soup at an incredibly slow pace.

"I'm sorry, I just can't eat with you watching me," she said finally.

Alistair shuffled uncomfortably in his chair. "Would you like me to leave? I can if you'd like me to. I don't mind."

"Nonononono," said Eleanor quickly. "I don't mind you being here, it's just a little weird having you watch me eat. Just…talk to me about something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know," Eleanor picked up her spoon and waved it around in the air, "Just…talk. Tell me a story of your choosing."

After a moment's hesitation Alistair agreed. "Okay, but just so you know, I don't generally like to talk about myself." Eleanor mumbled something incomprehensible, but obviously sarcastic, then returned to her soup, expecting Alistair to begin. With a sigh he obliged, "Okay, a story…? You know, a lot of people don't actually know how I came to be King, which seems pretty odd, all things considered. I'm sure you know about the battle at Ostagar where King Cailan died defeating the rising Blight, and how Loghain stepped in as hand of the Queen to help his daughter Anora rule without her husband. Well shortly after that my…I guess adoptive father, Arl Eamon, contacted me saying he had something important to discuss. No prizes for guessing what he had to tell me. Thing is, I was rather happy with my life as it was, so I was rather reluctant at first to believe him. But I spent a few months with Queen Anora and her army, fighting the remainder of the Darkspawn stragglers and learning about my lineage. As it turned out, Eamon had more planned for me than just getting to know the Queen and the General. He called a Landsmeet to announce me as King Maric's son and, well, by that point I'd become known amongst the nobles, so they voted to crown me as King in place of Cailan. They didn't like the idea of a woman ruling by herself, especially since without Cailan she kinda became just a noblewoman again instead of the Queen. Surprisingly her father didn't outright oppose the idea, in fact, he sort of supported it. Of course, like everyone else he wanted something too – to remain as General of the Royal army. I said yes, I'm not stupid. He's a brilliant tactician and a seasoned fighter. Loghain convinced Anora to step down gracefully, which she did, and I was crowned King."

He looked at Eleanor who was sat watching him, her bowl sat empty on the tray on her lap. "Well, there you have it. The _real_ account of how I came onto the throne. No griffons, no dragons – well, not in this story anyway – just a whole lot of luck."

"You know," said Eleanor, "I was kinda expecting an egotistical story about you riding into battle and slaying lots of Darkspawn or Orlesians. I have a question though." Alistair held out his hands to take the tray from her, which she passed to him, and he set it on the floor. "Are you happy as King? I mean sure, most people dream of becoming a King or Queen, but if you were happy before… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that. I really do need to learn when to shut up."

She bit her lip to try and stop her mouth from spilling out anymore stupid, personal questions. Her father really was right when he'd said her big mouth would land her in trouble one day.

To her surprise Alistair didn't storm out of the room, but instead started laughing. "It takes a lot more than that to offend me Eleanor. I learned to make the most out of my life before Eamon contacted me, but it wasn't happy. Perhaps happy wasn't the best word to use. Content, maybe. Complacent. Yes, I'd grown complacent with it. But then I was shown a new life, one where I would have a purpose and responsibility and real duty to something."

"So that's why you agreed?" asked Eleanor.

"Hell no!" laughed Alistair, "None of that made me want to agree, in fact it did just the opposite. Why do you think it took a few months after Eamon getting me for me to actually be crowned King? They had to convince the heck out of me to do it. That's why I went and fought the remainder of the Darkspawn. It was one of the ways they tried to get me to see that being King wouldn't be so bad – and they got another skilled fighter as well, not that I like to blow my own trumpet. They thought that if I saw what I'd be dealing with, I'd be more inclined to agree."

"So…_that's _why you agreed?"

He chuckled, "Yes, much to my annoyance their plan worked. I found myself wanting to be able to change what I saw, and the only way I could do it was, of course, by accepting their offer. I'll give Eamon this, he's very persuasive. Usually. Sometimes even I can resist his wily wily ways." He paused and looked at Eleanor, wondering if he should continue. _No. She needs to know this. If Eamon is going to insist on behaving like he is to her, she should at least know why. _She smiled at him reassuringly and he continued, "He wanted me to marry Anora, to secure my position as King, but I refused. She's a lovely woman when you get to know her, but personally I hate the idea of being married to her. I don't feel anything for her. How am I supposed to marry a woman I feel nothing for? And then there'd be the issue of producing heirs… Sorry, that's not exactly a topic to discuss with a lady. I'll just shut up before I…yeah, sorry, shutting up now."

After shifting awkwardly, Eleanor broke the silence that hovered uncomfortably in the air. "So you know, I'm not easily offended or shocked either. I'm basically the opposite of the woman my mother envisioned I'd become. The fact my armour is more than customary light armour which is only to be worn should we get invaded was bad enough. She had such a fit when I asked father for my own set last year. So yeah, the topic of producing heirs doesn't offend my ears, your grace." She winked playfully then smiled at him, the King returning her smile with one just as warm. "Although, perhaps you shouldn't make a habit of discussing it. It's hardly a topic for a King and a lady to be discussing, now is it?"

She laughed again, the ridiculousness of the situation she was in finally hitting her. Here she was, sat in bed with the King of Ferelden in his Royal Palace, eating soup and discussing…well, sex. _Ahhh, if only mother was here. She wouldn't know whether to be ecstatic or furious. _The bandages around her torso started pulling and she winced in pain. Alistair rushed to help her, but she waved him off and clutched at her chest. "I'm fine, I just laughed a little too hard."

"I'll get the healer."

"No," she insisted, "I'm fine, really."

"Right, because making pained noises and clutching at your chest means you're fine. Come on, if you won't let me get the healer then at least let me help you lie down."

Knowing it was pointless to protest she nodded and let the King help her back into bed. Much to her annoyance, she did feel better for it, her bandages not tugging as much as they did before. She thanked him before stating that he really didn't have to help her, which earned her a shush and a "I'm the King. I'll do what I like." She giggled quietly at that, trying not to laugh too hard lest her wound pull and Alistair called back the healer.

"Seriously though, I'm not leaving your side unless I have to. Got it?"

Eleanor nodded silently, taken aback by the solemnity in his voice.

"Good. Now, do you want me to get you anything? A drink? A book? Anything?" Eleanor shook her head and thanked him. "Well okay then. Just say if want anything," he smiled.

It didn't take long for her to fall asleep, the sleeping draught in her soup quick to take effect. The healer wanted to check her bandages and change them, but every time he tried to do it she insisted she was fine and refused to let him. While Alistair didn't like tricking her, it was necessary they kept an eye on her wound. It wasn't nearly as bad as it had been, but it still wasn't healed, nor would it be for a few weeks thanks to the poison on the Crow's blade.

When the healer entered the room Alistair stood to leave. "Your grace, do you have an extra body spare to assist me?" asked the mage, "My usual helper is busy today."

"Of course," said Alistair. "Let me."

The mage looked at him curiously, "Are you sure your grace? My work is hardly suitable for a King?"

After a moment's pause he said, "What do need me to do?"

The mage nodded his resignation then put his bag beside the bed. "I need you to help me move her so I can undress her and tend to her wound, then hold her so I can change her bandages."

Alistair confirmed his understanding then moved to the side of the bed. He folded the bed sheets back and tried not so stare as he helped remove Eleanor's nightdress. He was very aware of the soft flesh underneath his hands as he helped the healer sit her up, so he had full access to her back and chest. While the healer began unwinding the bandages around her torso, Alistair kept his eyes fixed forward, determined not to look at the expanse of tempting flesh next to him. _What am I doing? Eamon is going to murder me when he finds out about this. I should have gone and got a servant. _

"Your grace? Can you hold her front steady while I tend to her back?"

With a gulp Alistair moved so he was facing the sleeping redhead and placed his hands firmly on her shoulders. He tried not to notice how warm she was, or look the curves that swept beyond his vision. Asleep she looked so young and calm, her normal tough exterior completely eroded. He could almost see now why her mother had been disappointed when she chose a sword over a fan, her natural beauty most desirable. She would make any man proud to say she was his wife. But if she had indeed chosen to keep her fan, he would never have met her.

"Okay, I'm all done your grace. Thank you for your help. You know, what people say about you really is true. You are a good man."

Alistair tried to hide his blush at the man's words by helping put Eleanor's nightdress back on. It was still weird having people praise him, being so used to nothing but mediocrity and insults. "Just doing my duty," he said quietly.

"As you say, your grace. Is there anything else before I leave?"

He dismissed the mage then resumed his vigil next to the bed, hoping that when Eleanor woke up she didn't overreact and let loose the fury he knew lurked inside of her. Maker help the person who unleashed her wrath.


	5. Chapter 5

_My dearest Eleanor,_

_Well I told you so. I can't believe you injured yourself while out hunting. I have always said that it is no place for a lady and you, young lady, have just proven me right. You must apologise again to the King for intruding in his home and thank him whenever you can for his kindness. Maker only knows why he's so kind to you, for you haven't done anything to deserve it. _

_Fergus insisted he come and visit you, though I don't know why. I'm sure you're being taken care of well enough there. It is the Royal Palace after all. You could at least do yourself a favour and use your time there to win over the King. I think, if he's been crazy enough to give you another chance after that spectacle you made when he visited, he's crazy enough to want to marry you. I only pray to Andraste that he doesn't see too many more of your oddities and instead finds you a pleasant match. _

_I'd wish you a speedy recovery, but the longer you are there, the more time you have to win over the King. Still, get well child. _

_Hoping to see you soon enough, mother. _

Eleanor sighed as she set down the letter and reached for her tea. _Maker she's infuriating at times. She's happy I'm injured! _

"Is everything alright?" Alistair's head popped around the door, a worried smile on his lips.

Eleanor smiled reassuringly at him, "Yes, just my mother being her usual annoying self, that's all." She held the letter out for Alistair take, "Apparently she doesn't mind my being injured because she thinks it will mean I'm sure to get an engagement ring out of it. Lovely, isn't she?"

"I'm sure she didn't –" Alistair began reading the letter and stopped mid-sentence, "Oh, or maybe she did mean it. Wow, is your mother really like this?"

She nodded, "I'm afraid so. She can get a little batty at times, especially when it comes to marrying me off. I think she's afraid I'm going to join the army or something – I stopped doing _that_ after the third failed attempt."

"Third? Wow, talk about determined," Alistair chuckled and handed the letter back to Eleanor. "At least your brother cares how you're doing. He's welcome to stay, although if I remember rightly he has a wife and child, does he not? Perhaps he won't want to be parted from them for long."

"I'm sure Fergus will let us know his plans when he arrives. Actually, I'm glad you popped by. Would I…" Eleanor paused and chewed on her lip, "Would I be okay to go for a walk around the palace today? The healer said getting up would do me good, and I haven't seen anything outside of this room since I arrived here."

"Well, I suppose a walk would do you good."

Without thinking Eleanor threw herself at the King and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him in a vice-like grip. After a few moments Alistair cleared his throat, the noise bringing her back to reality. She pulled away awkwardly, her cheeks so bright they matched her flaming hair. "Sorry about that."

Alistair chuckled, "No harm done. Now, I'll send someone in to help you get dressed. I'll be waiting for you when you're done." He smiled once more at her then left the room, an elven woman taking his place a few minutes later.

Eleanor sighed at the familiar situation, the elven handmaid here to help her dress, but her mood picked up when she saw what the elf was carrying. In her hands was a simple cotton dress. No corset or lacing, no silk or embroidery, just a simple dress. She let the elf help her out of her nightdress and carefully put the new dress on, it's material both breathable and comfortable. _Makes a nice change, _she thought as she sat on a chair to let the elf brush her messy hair. When she was done the elf helped her stand, then left the room, leaving Eleanor staring after her confused. _Is...is that it? Is she really done? Maker, why can't Arryn do this? _

After checking herself in the mirror quickly, she left the confines of her room for the first time in over nearly two weeks. Alistair was stood waiting for her, his eyes lighting up when he saw her.

"So, that's what you look like in a dress. Last time I saw you in one you didn't keep it on long enough for me to appreciate it." Eleanor's blush returned, the memory of her spar with Ser Gilmore now as mortifying as it was funny. Alistair held out his arm for her to take, "Come on, let's stretch those legs of yours. How about I give you a tour of the place?"

The Palace was a remarkable building, Eleanor quickly discovered. It was larger than she'd thought, with so many rooms she eventually lost count. A few room she had to be dragged out of lest she drool. The armoury and weapon room were her favourites, the walls full of glittering swords that made her eyes sparkle with joy and a childish giggle of glee escape her lips, as was the library which was so full of books she went cross-eyed trying to take them all in. The entire time Alistair paid close attention to what made her squeal with delight or she stop paying attention due to boredom, taking the time to try and figure out this excitable woman.

Noticing Eleanor's breath was becoming more laboured the longer they walked, he began leading them back towards her room. As they passed a closed off courtyard, a messenger caught up with them and flagged down the King. "Sire! Sire! They're ready to begin. They're waiting for you now."

"Very good, tell them I'll be a few minutes."

"I'm afraid Arl Eamon says it must be now," the messenger chimed sheepishly.

Alistair sighed and rubbed his temples in frustration. "Very well, I'll come now."

"What's going on?" asked Eleanor, still leaning slightly on Alistair for support. The more they had walked, the more the ache in her back had grown to a mild stabbing pain.

"We're executing the assassin who shot you today. I'm afraid I'm needed to carry out his sentence. Shall I get someone to help you back to your room? I won't force you to watch me kill a man."

Much to his surprise, her arm didn't move from around his. "If it's alright with you your grace, I'd prefer to watch his execution."

Deciding to deal with Eamon later, he nodded his consent then walked with her to where the Crow was being held. It was around the front of the palace, where a large crowd could potentially gather and so therefore all executions were public. A small group of guards were in attendance, as well as a man Eleanor assumed to be Arl Eamon (judging by the scowl on his face), a red-headed nobleman, General Mac Tir, and his daughter Anora. Their eyes fell on the King and his companion as they finally entered the courtyard, Eamon visibly sighing in relief when he turned up. His eyes narrowed when he spotted the red-headed woman on Alistair's arm.

"Your majesty, at last," said Eamon, trying to hide the bitter tone in his voice.

"Yes well, I guess we lost track of time."

"If I may suggest something," chimed in the red-headed man, "Perhaps I can keep your friend company while you attend to the matter at hand."

Alistair tore his eyes away from the Arl to address the red-head, "Perhaps that's best. Eleanor, Teagan will keep you company while I attend to business." After nodding her understanding she allowed Teagan to take her hand and kiss it in greeting.

"What business? This really isn't necessary. Look, she's alive isn't she?" The elf chimed in in his lilting, accented voice. The guard next to him huffed in irritation and slapped him with his gauntlet-clad hand, causing the elf to spit blood. "Now that was uncalled for. I was merely pointing out that killing me seems pointless since I didn't actually kill anyone."

"No you didn't," agreed Alistair, much to the surprise of the small crowd gathered around him. "But you did attempt to kill me, and in the process you shot my friend here in the back with a poisoned arrow. Last time I checked, that's still treason and treason is punishable by death."

It was strange. Despite being faced with his impending death, the elf seemed amused by the King. A sly grin was stuck on his face, crinkling the swirling tattoo framing his cheekbones, and his eyes kept flicking between Alistair and herself, as if he saw something between them no one else, including herself, did.

"Now, if you're done we shall begin." When no one spoke Alistair continued. "Zevran Arainai, you have been found guilty of treason and attempted murder. Do you have anything to say before I carry out your sentence?" He held out his hand and one of his men passed him a simple but sharp greatsword.

"I do actually," he said, still surprisingly cheery. "The only crime here is making a woman as beautiful as your _friend_ there wear such an ugly dress. It does nothing for her. She's lucky she's naturally gifted, otherwise that bag she's wearing would hide everything and that _would_ be a shame."

Alistair narrowed his eyes and tried to ignore the strange anger building inside of him at the elf's words. _How dare he say such things about her. Treating her like a piece of meat. Like he has any right to look at her like that. She's a woman, not a whore. _

"If you have nothing to say, then I sentence you to death. May the Maker show you the mercy you deserve."

Before another witty word could leave the elf's mouth Alistair had raised the greatsword over his neck and swung down, taking off the elf's head in one clean blow.

It was not the first time Eleanor had seen a man be killed. The first time had been accidental. She was six and couldn't sleep because of a ruckus coming from somewhere outside. She'd ventured outside to try and find her parents, to see what was going on, and instead found a hooded man wrestling with one of the guards. She didn't scream, just stood transfixed as her young brain tried to make sense of the scene before her. Her father had appeared then, a knight in shining armour, and ran his sword through the intruder. When he saw her stood there watching him he approached her and told her to go back to bed, but the image of that sword sticking out of the man's neck stuck with her all night, making sleep impossible.

Teagan was surprised. He'd watched her from the corner of his eye the entire time. Not once did she flinch or look away. While she kept her face passive, her eyes told a different story. She seemed almost excited to see the elf die, her eyes lighting up when Alistair raised his sword. _She certainly is different. Shame Alistair found her first. _

Alistair handed the sword back to one of his men and after a final disgusted look at the elf's corpse he rejoined the nobles. "Are we done now?"

"Have you forgotten your day's plans sire? Empress Celene is visiting tomorrow to discuss an alliance."

"Of course," he sighed, "how could I forget?" He turned to Teagan, "Uncle, would you mind helping Eleanor back to her room?" He gladly agreed, the red-head more than happy to spend some more time with her. "My lady," he took Eleanor's free hand in his, "I'm afraid duty calls. I hope this hasn't ruined your day."

"Not at all. There's nothing like a good execution to liven one's day." Her lips turned up in a small, but playful smile, her eyes once again revealing more than her face did. _Just because I never did it at home mother doesn't mean I didn't listen mother. Even I realised it would be a useful skill to have. _

Alistair allowed himself to chuckle quietly, "Well good. Now I'm afraid I must take my leave, but you are in good hands with Teagan." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, his eyes holding hers the entire time, his lips quirking up when he saw her cheeks flush slightly at his touch. "My lady."

"Your grace," she said, trying not to sound too breathless and failing miserably. _Damn it Eleanor. What happened to remaining composed? _

"Come my lady. Let's get you back to your room."

Eleanor let the nobleman walk her away from the courtyard, sparing a sad glance back at the King. She enjoyed his company, but running the Kingdom was more important than keeping her entertained and she understood that – even if she was disappointed that she wouldn't see him for a while. Though she didn't want to admit it to herself, she'd grown to like his bumbling charm and honest conversations with her. People normally treated her like a stupid child with no intelligence or original thoughts in her head, but he told her things how they were and treated her like an equal, and she greatly appreciated that.

"We were never properly introduced. I'm Teagan, Arl of Redcliffe and one of the King's advisors. I'm also his uncle…sort of."

"Eleanor Cousland, daughter of Bryce Cousland and unfortunate target of the Crow's arrow." She smiled politely at Teagan, unsure how to proceed. "So...how can you be sort of someone's uncle?" she asked unthinkingly. _Me and my big mouth. Well done. _

He chuckled, "It's complicated. Let's just say that Alistair has a…complex lineage, so we stick to saying I'm his uncle. It's just easier that way."

"Fair enough," said Eleanor, trying to hide the amusement in her voice.

"I must say, I'm starting to see why Alistair has been spending all his spare time keeping you company. I'll admit, I didn't know why he was doing it, but now I've seen you…Forgive me, I'm too bold."

Eleanor placed a comforting hand on his arm automatically, "Nonsense. Men aren't bold enough a lot of the time. Maybe then their intentions would be known and it would make everyone's lives far less complicated…And I think I've revealed too much. Oh look, we're back at my room. Thank you for your assistance Teagan. Perhaps I'll see you soon."

Before he had chance to bid her farewell, Eleanor had scuttled into her room and closed the door behind her.

_That was too close. I really need to watch what I say._

* * *

**_Apologies for killing Zevran, believe me, it wasn't easy, but it was necessary for the story. Also, Teyrna Cousland is based more on Mrs Bennet than the Bioware's Teyrna Cousland. It's just a personal preference for the story. I needed her to be batty and hell-bent on marrying off her daughter, which seems much more Mrs B than Mrs C._**


	6. Chapter 6

**_Hi there. Quick note. I know lots of you don't like to leave reviews, but I would really appreciate it if just one of you decided to say something every now and again. It really plays a major role in my motivation with writing. Thanks. _**

* * *

Fergus' arrival at the Palace was well timed for everyone. Alistair was pre-occupied for the week, what with the Empress of Orlais visiting, which meant Eleanor was alone and bored in the gigantic, foreign building. Although she'd been given permission by the healer to walk around again, large parts of the Palace were restricted due to the Empress's arrival. All the rooms she wanted to explore further had been cut off, so she'd taken to wandering aimlessly and trying to avoid Arl Teagan who lately had taken to following her around and trying to make awkward small talk.

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

Eleanor looked up from the book she'd managed to swipe from the library before that too was closed off and grinned. "Fergus." She set down her book and jumped up to hug him, forgetting about her back and instantly regretting it. He rushed to help her and sat her back down in her chair, then seated himself nearby.

"Easy Ellie. I know you're excited to see me, but don't hurt yourself. Well, any more than you already did. What did you do?"

"I fell off my horse," she grumbled.

He leaned back in his seat and stared at her, "Uh huh, of course you did. Because in your entire your life you've fallen off your horse a total of two times, and both of those were largely mother's fault. So I'll ask again. What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," she said, looking away from him. _Can I tell him? He is my brother. _After a few more minutes of Fergus staring at her, waiting for an answer, she sighed, "Look, if I tell you, you can't tell mother. She would never let me see Alistair again."

"Alistair? You and the King are on first name terms?" He waggled an eyebrow at her suggestively.

"Yes, well, you see, I kinda got shot by an assassin who was aiming for him. Luckily because I was wearing armour it didn't kill me, but it still went in pretty far and it was tipped with poison, so my recovery process has been screwed up. I'm staying here until I'm all healed up, at Alistair's request."

"You know what, I believe you," he said, folding his arms over his chest. "I hope this assassin was caught."

"And killed. He was executed yesterday. I saw it myself. It was rather satisfying actually."

Fergus sighed, "Please tell me you didn't…"

"Relax brother, I was invited to watch it. Don't worry." She smiled reassuringly at him, making the frown forming in his brow temporarily relax. "So, how's mother been?"

His brow quickly creased again and he rubbed his temples. "Let's not got here. You can guess how she is. She's a horrible mix of furious and elated. I'm just glad to be away from her. Although I do feel bad for leaving father behind, but he had business to attend to. And of course, he has to keep mother sane while you're here. I don't know who's going to keep him sane though. He misses you Ellie."

"I know," she sighed, "I miss him too."

"Oh, I almost forgot. Father asked me to give you this." Fergus handed her a bag from next to his seat, "I don't know what's in it, but he said you'd appreciate it. He knows how easily bored you are."

Eleanor opened the bag and squealed happily at its contents. Inside the bag was her lute, her diary, a selection of her favourite books, and a note. She opened it and read:

_Pup, _

_I know what you're like so I've sent these along with your brother to keep you entertained while you're recovering. I hope you're not causing too much trouble for the King, though I believe he can handle more than your mother thinks._

_Be good. _

She grinned and picked up her lute, checking its tuning and chewing her lip as she tried to retune a few strings by ear. Fergus watched her curiously, his normally irritable sister surprisingly calm. He'd expected to arrive and find her bouncing off the walls with boredom, yet when he'd arrived she'd been sat happily reading, and given her mood it didn't seem to be a new development.

"You see calmer," he said suddenly. She pouted as his voice interrupted her tuning. _Strange. Normally she'd have bitten my head off for that. _"Yep, definitely calmer."

When she was done tuning she set her lute down, "I don't know what you mean."

"Well for a start you haven't shouted at me for interrupting you," he laughed slightly and pointed towards her lute to make his point clear. "Are you on special medication or something? Because the Eleanor Cousland I know has a temper like a High Dragon."

"Oh believe me, I still do. I just…haven't had any reason to get pissed lately. Sure it's been shit being stuck in bed, but I've usually had company, and good company at that, so it's not been so bad."

Fergus stared at his sister in disbelief. Whether she knew it or not she was grinning like an idiot and her cheeks were flushed. "You're soft on him…"

Her grin instantly vanished, "Watch your mouth brother. I'm not soft on anyone, King or not."

"Okay, okay, fine, you're not soft," he said quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. "But you do like him. You haven't complained about him once since I've been here. That's a record for you."

She remained silent, her blush spreading to her ears and neck.

"Your silence speaks volume sister."

"Just…drop it, okay. I don't wanna talk about it," she mumbled, averting her eyes from her brother. He could always read her so well, too well at times. She had tried to push the recent thoughts about a certain man out of her mind. It would not do her well to dwell on them when he was always with her. His feelings were relatively clear – from the incident whilst out hunting to how much of his own time he had spent looking after her, it was obvious that he felt something for her – but his intentions…now those she wasn't sure of. He had stated that he didn't want to marry Anora because he didn't love her, but did that mean…_Don't get ahead of yourself Eleanor. He's not proposed yet. _She reeled mentally. _Wait, when did I start liking the idea of him proposing to me?! _

Fergus dropped the subject then, not wanting to push his luck, and started filling his sister in on all she'd missed at home. She listened with a vague interest, his stories nothing new to her given how life at Castle Cousland never really changed, her mind still trying to process her new revelation. Eventually he stopped talking, his sister's disinterest obvious, and relaxed in his chair, his exhaustion from the long journey to the Palace catching up with him at last.

Realising her brother had fallen asleep Eleanor kissed his forehead and padded out of the room with her re-packed bag. Not knowing where else would be open to her, she returned to the confines of her room and emptied the contents of her bag once again, setting her belongings down on the bedside table.

Despite her calm exterior her mind was racing. _I'm so confused. This is so unlike me. Then again, this whole situation is new. Maybe Fergus is right…_

_No. Don't be stupid. You're just acting this way because he's the King and he saved your life after you got shot and because he's been looking after you. _

_And why do you think that is…? _

She gasped aloud, the probable reason hitting her like a ton of bricks. She pushed the thoughts it created out of her head, refusing to believe that the King of Ferelden liked her and refusing to accept that she liked him back.

_Maybe some music will clear my mind…_

Determined not to dwell on it, Eleanor picked up her lute from the bed and plucking at its strings. After reacquainting herself with her instrument she began playing a relaxing melody, humming along the more she played. She began singing quietly every now and then, the words flowing freely, the muscles in her fingers automatically moving to form the new chords, her eyes closing in bliss.

* * *

He'd been looking for her all morning. Truth be told he knew where she'd been, but by the time he'd finally worked up the courage to go and speak to her, her brother had arrived and his opportunity was lost. He had missed her leave, but there were very few places accessible to her at the moment, since Empress Celene's visit occupied the rooms Alistair had mentioned Eleanor was most interested in.

The King had barely shut up about her since she'd arrived in the Palace. Sure, he had enough sense to know when to and not to talk about her, but if he could talk about her he did. It was almost cute at first. After all, he'd never shown any real interest in the women they'd tried to get him to marry before, so for him to fall so quickly for this woman was promising. But he was growing tired of the gushing and the fawning, as was everyone else.

He'd simply been annoyed by his constant babbling before, but after meeting the woman his annoyance had turned to childish jealously. Which was why he intended to make the most of Alistair's absence.

Teagan heard her before he saw her, her surprisingly sweet voice drifting out of her room. His feet seemed to gain a mind of their own, walking him towards her door before he realised what he was doing. He listened intently, his ear pressed against the wood of the door.

The singing stopped abruptly. Teagan listened curiously to try and find out what was happening. The door beneath him swung open, causing him to lose balance and fall over. A tapping foot greeted him.

"Can I help you?" asked Eleanor amusedly. She stared down at the nobleman with a small smirk on her face. She'd heard him listening in and thought, to her disappointment, that he was someone else.

Teagan rushed to his feet and dusted himself down, "Eleanor. Fancy meeting you here…in your room." He blushed and looked away when she stared at him expectantly. "I was…just looking for you, actually."

"Well, you found me."

"Yes…so I did…" He stared at her like a stunned rabbit, any words he had prepared completely abandoning him. Eleanor waited patiently for him to speak, knowing it was better to wait than to hurry him along. Besides, she was in a pleasant enough mood. She could wait…for the moment, anyway.

Eventually Teagan remembered that it was he who had gone to her and spoke. "So, anyway, I came to ask you if you wanted to join us for dinner later."

"Oh," Eleanor blinked, startled, "I…sure. Of course." _What am I supposed to say? No? _

"Great. I'll send someone to escort you down later, okay?"

"Sure."

Teagan nodded a few times before awkwardly edging out of the room, leaving Eleanor staring at the door confused.

_Did I just agree to have dinner with him?_

* * *

Dinner was even more awkward than she'd imagined it would be. As it turned out, it _wasn't _just Teagan she was having dinner with, but Eleanor actually wished it _was_. As well as Teagan, the _ex_-Queen Anora and Royal Advisor Eamon were there, both of whom did not seem happy to see her. Luckily she also managed to drag her brother to dinner as well, much to the disappointment of the Arl of Redcliffe, whose face visibly sunk when he spotted her brother guiding her to the dining room.

She felt exposed without her armour or mabari to protect her, the nobles' glares as piercing as they were judgemental. Eventually Anora spoke to her. "Going for a relaxed look I see," she remarked casually, picking at her food like so many noblewomen do.

Eleanor cleared her throat awkwardly before replying, "Nothing else would fit over my bandages."

Anora glared at her, her missing title annoying the woman. _Cheeky bitch. No respect for her superiors. I was Queen god-damn it! _

"Who did you say your father was again?"

Eleanor and Fergus's attention turned to Eamon. It was his turn to grill them. "Bryce Cousland, Teyrn of Highever."

"Highever…Isn't that a rather small patch of land? The hunting grounds here are bigger than your castle, let alone the rest of Highever."

Fergus bit his tongue. He was used to dealing with annoying, pompous noblemen. Father had made him sit in many a meeting so he could learnt the art of tactfulness. His sister however, was not. "Actually, I think you'll find it's larger than Amaranthine, let alone its castle which ours towers over in size. And yes, I know this from personal experience because I have visited it many a time, in fact my family is good friends with the Howes, who I'm sure you are aware rule over Amaranthine."

"Well…that told you Eamon," joked Anora dryly.

An awkward air hung in the room after that. No one really spoke, though both Teagan and Fergus made a few attempts at polite conversation, which were either answered with heavy silence or a bitter exchange between Eleanor and Anora. Eamon just scowled at her unhappily. She didn't know what the reason was, but he did not like her at all.

_Surely this isn't because of the marriage thing Alistair told me about…?_

"That was delicious," said Fergus as their plates were being taken away.

"Yes," agreed Eleanor, "it's nice to eat something that's not liquefied mush."

"Can you only afford broth in Highever?" sneered Anora a little too loudly.

Eleanor fists slammed down on the table. "That is it! I have had enough of you and your smart mouth. We get it! You were the Queen, your husband died, you lost your throne. Get over yourself! You're not Queen anymore. But neither am I! I am just a woman you the King happened to take a liking to and accidentally got shot instead of him. I am not here to steal your fucking throne which, by the way, isn't yours anymore – it's Alistair's. _He_ is the King here. If he thinks I'm worth his time, then so be it. But stop being a fucking bitch for no other reason than I currently have more of a shot for the throne than you, not that I want it. I just want you and mister high-and-mighty here to lay off my case and leave me alone."

She stood up to leave, "Oh, and so you know, you're only still worth anything around here because your daddy is the country's general. Otherwise you'd have been kicked out ages ago. There's a reason you're sat in here with us lot instead of in the main dining room with Empress Celene."

With that, she stormed out of the room and stomped upstairs, her fists clenched tightly by her sides. She heard footsteps following her but ignored them, knowing it would be her brother coming to calm her down, or Teagan trying to stick his nose in where it wasn't needed. _  
_

"Ellie, calm down."

_Good. At least it's Fergus chasing after me and not him. _

She stopped mid-step and whirled around to face him, her nostrils flaring with rage. "Calm down? _Calm down?_ They insulted our family Fergus! I'm not just going to let them do that!"

"I know Ellie. Believe me, I'm just as angry as you are, but this isn't how you deal with it."

"No, it's not how _noblemen _deal with it. Well here's a news flash for you brother. I'm not a nobleman." She grabbed her chest to make her point, earning her a few odd looks from passing servants who had enough balls to linger longer than a second near her.

Fergus rolled his eyes, "No, but you are a lady, and _ladies _don't behave like that either, whether they like it or not. You can't just shout at people because they're mean to you. That's how wars get started Ellie." She huffed at him, "Okay, that was a little exaggerated, but you get my meaning. You need to learn to control your temper before it ruins you."

"Maker, you sound like father!"

She turned and began marching back to her room, but Fergus placed a hand on her shoulder and tried to hold her back so he could finish lecturing her. She shrugged aggressively to try and shake him off, but failed and pulled at her bandages. Eleanor yelped in pain and after practically growling at her brother she let him help her back to her room.

"Really Fergus, I'm – ow – I'm fine."

He sat her down on a chair before telling her to stay put and left to find someone who could help. She grumbled to herself, reluctant to admit that her back did feel like it had pulled and that it was tremendously painful right now.

Fergus returned a while later, flushed and out of breath. "The healer will be here shortly. Teagan has sent for him."

He was surprised to find Eleanor strangely compliant to the healer coming, she didn't complain or anything. He found out why when he looked at her properly. Her face was still red, though no longer from anger and her eyes were slightly puffy and her cheeks looked wet, like she'd been crying.

"I fucked up again Fergus, didn't I?"


	7. Chapter 7

It felt weird knowing he wouldn't see Eleanor for the next few days. Sure he understood it was necessary, what with the important business with Orlais, but he'd grown so used to seeing her every day that the idea of not seeing her was just bizarre.

He was in the middle of dinner when fate decided to intervene. Things had been going well for him. The Empress was talking positively about Orlais and Ferelden becoming allies and he hadn't said anything stupid to embarrass himself, despite Eamon's fears. Things were good.

As their plates were being collected and the trays were being brought in for dessert, a messenger scurried into the room and made a beeline for Alistair.

"Your grace, the healer has arrived. He's on his way to her room now."

Alistair looked at the boy puzzled, "The healer? Why is he here? What happened?"

"I don't know," stammered the boy, "All I know is Arl Tegan told me to send for the healer straight away because Lady Eleanor was hurt."

The King shot to his feet. "I am terribly sorry, but I have to see to this. I will return as quickly as I can." Remembering his manners his strode over to the Empress and bowed, "Your Radiance." She waved him off, more curious than angry as to what could be more important than an allegiance between their two previously-warring countries.

He ran into Teagan on his way up to Eleanor's room. The Arl tried to fill him in on what had happened, but it all came out in a string of nonsense. The only words which made any real sense were 'Anora', 'Eamon', and 'piece of her mind', which was enough to get a rough idea of what had happened.

_He'll never forgive me Fergus! I insulted both of them and I'm pretty sure I'm inadvertently leading Teagan on just by being polite for once._

"Maybe you should check on Eamon and Anora…" suggested Alistair to a bright-red Teagan. He nodded silently before scurrying off, embarrassed that he had been so transparent in his intentions with Eleanor.

_Eleanor, I need you to calm down so I can check your back. _

_Ellie, listen to him. Please._

Alistair heard a quiet sigh from inside her room and the healer thank her. _Maker, what did you do?_

He heard quiet sobbing and sniffling. _Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I was just so worked up. _

_Worked up? You reopened your wound and now the bandage is stuck to it. _The healer sighed. _I'm sorry, but this is going to hurt. If I give you any morphine now its effects won't last, and I also won't be able to give you any afterwards without risking an overdose. I'm afraid you're going to have to do this the painful way. I'm sorry…_

Alistair tried not to listen too much after then, his curiosity having already gotten the better of him, but her screams of pain were impossible to block out. He wished he could have been in there to try and comfort her, but it was not his place. Eventually her cries died down and after a painful amount of time the healer finally opened the door.

"She's currently asleep. She passed out from the pain. I've cleaned her wound and redressed it, but I'm going to need to check it again later to see if it's healing properly, and to give her some pain relief." Alistair nodded his understanding then thanked the healer for coming so quickly. "It's no problem your grace. I'll be just down the hall. Shout me when she wakes up."

He felt like he was intruding on a private family moment when he finally went in to check on Eleanor. Fergus held his sister's hand while she slept, her body suddenly looking tiny and frail. Alistair was about to back out of the room when he spoke. "Eleanor said you were at an important dinner with the Empress of Orlais."

"I was," he said quietly, "but I heard she was hurt."

"So my sister is more important to you than the safety of Ferelden?" asked Fergus disbelievingly. _He's willing to risk starting a war for my sister, and she says there's nothing going on. Yeah right. _

Alistair edged closer, his eyes fixed on the sleeping woman. "I…I guess so…"

"You know," said Fergus quietly, "you probably should go back to the Empress before she gets angry and declares war or something. I can tell her you were here."

The King smiled at him and politely thanked him, but told him he wasn't going anywhere, war or not. He pulled up a chair at the other side of Eleanor's bed and stared sadly at her, "I'm not leaving her." Absentmindedly he brushed a stray wisp of hair away from her face. "So what happened? Teagan tried to tell me, but I was too worried to listen properly."

Fergus sighed, "It wasn't entirely her fault. The other two said some very offensive things and Eleanor has never been one to hold her tongue. She gave them both a piece of her mind, the woman in particular, and stormed out of the dining room. I tried to get her to calm down, but instead she pulled away and hurt herself."

Alistair cursed under his breath, "I need to have words with those two. I know exactly who did this and I am not surprised. I am however pissed off and a little disappointed that they'd stoop so low." He took a few breaths to calm down. "I'm sorry for tonight and for the…horse riding accident. I would never wish any harm to come to her. I…" He trailed off, seemingly reluctant to finish his thought.

"I know. And I know what really happened."

After a moment's surprise Alistair shook his head and chuckled quietly. "She told you. Of course she told you."

Fergus smirked, "She's my sister. Of course she told me."

They didn't speak again after that, the two of them more concerned about the sleeping woman between them than making idle chatter. Fergus watched with curious interest when Alistair's face scrunched up in pain whenever Eleanor whimpered in her sleep. The rest of the time he simply stared at her, his eyes fixed on her face. He seemed to forget Fergus was in the room too, the King looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

* * *

Fergus was still with her when she woke up. She wondered how long she'd been out, his gentle but firm grip on his hand worrying her. She squeezed his hand reassuringly and she heard him let out a sigh of relief.

"Eleanor. How do you feel?"

_That's not Fergus… _Eleanor blinked to clear her vision and followed the hand upwards until she found its owner. "Confused. Where did Fergus go?"

"I told him to get some sleep. He looked exhausted." Alistair squeezed her hand gently, "I'm so sorry about Anora and Eamon. I should have told Teagan to keep them away from you."

"No, it's my fault. I'm the one who took their bait and lost my temper. You can feel free to kick me out anytime now. I'll understand." She hung her head in shame, the reality of her outburst hitting her like a ton of bricks. _I can't believe I said what I did. I completely sunk to their level. _

To her surprise Alistair's hold on her hand didn't loosen. "Kick you out? Why in the Maker's name would I do that?"

"Because I lost it in front of your father. Because I called Anora a fucking bitch and told her that she was washed up and living off her father's fame. Because I'm clearly not good enough for you."

She didn't realise she was crying until Alistair joined her on the bed and pulled her into his arms, being careful not to move her too much lest her hurt her back. She cried quietly on his chest, not caring that her dignity had temporarily gone out of the window. "Eleanor, maybe you haven't grasped this yet, but you are welcome to stay here for as long as necessary, whether that be a week or a year." He stroked her hair comfortingly, "Besides, Anora's a bitch and Eamon isn't technically my father, so no harm done."

Eleanor looked up at him gingerly from his chest, "I thought you said Anora's nice when you get to know her, and that you liked Eamon."

"I did - I do, but even I can recognise that at times they're too driven by their own desires and ambitions…which unfortunately don't currently feature you in them. But they can go and fuck themselves for all I care." A determined look crossed his face. "Eleanor I…I care for you, and I don't give a damn what Eamon thinks of you. He's just pissed that I refused to marry Anora. I'd never even seriously considered it until…" He trailed off.

"Until…?" she asked quietly, her heart pounding loudly inside her chest.

He swallowed thickly, "…Until…I had the good fortune of meeting you." She stared at him in disbelief, unsure of what to say. Alistair's determination faded from his face and was replaced by a worried look and a mild blush. "Can I…would it be alright if I kissed you?"

"Alistair, we have kissed before," she pointed out.

His blush deepened, "Good point. Well then, may I kiss you again? With your verbal permission this time."

Eleanor laughed quietly and pulled him down to her, the two of them grinning as for the first time in almost a month their lips met again. Unlike last time she didn't push him away, instead her hand settling on the nape of his neck. Alistair's arms tightened around her, his lips insistent against hers. She temporarily forgot about her back, the bliss flooding her veins dulling the pain that threatened to overwhelm her senses again.

They lost all sense of time, but eventually the two of them parted, the need for air too great to ignore any longer. Out of nowhere Eleanor began giggling, her head flopping down and resting on Alistair's chest as she laughed. Alistair jokingly asked if it was that bad, "No, no, it's just…I never believed I would ever want anyone to do that, let alone want them to do it again."

"I know what you mean," he agreed, hooking his finger under her chin and lifting her face to meet his. Eleanor winced and groaned in pain before he could kiss her again, so he gently helped her sit up and went to fetch the healer, leaving her alone with just her thoughts for company.

To her surprise, her mind was oddly clear. She'd expected a whirlwind of emotions to wind her, but the only real feeling she felt was elation. Perhaps it was because she'd finally gotten some clarity on his intentions. Perhaps it was because their feelings appeared to be mutual. Perhaps it was simply because she realised that this is what it felt like to love and be loved in return. _Is this what I've been so afraid of? No, this is what I never felt with any of those men mother tried to set me up with. Well, it's not like she has any reason to complain now. _

It didn't take long for Alistair to fetch the healer, who had been anxiously waiting for her to wake up. To her disappointment Alistair didn't linger. "I should get back to Celene." She nodded her understanding and tried not to show her disappointment, but Alistair seemed to notice it regardless. "I'll be back as soon as I can, but this is important. I'll make it up to you, I promise." He kissed her lips sweetly then dashed out of the room. While he wished he didn't have to return, she was awake now and in safe hands, and the Empress would only wait so long.

* * *

"How is she?"

Alistair took the glass Celene offered him and looked at her cautiously.

"Relax. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together, and you did refer to her by name before leaving." Empress Celene sipped leisurely at her wine, savouring its heady blend of berries and spices. "So, how is she?"

"Better," he said simply. A small smile crept on his lips and he hid it – unsuccessfully – by taking a sip of his wine.

She smirked. It was always fun making people squirm, even royalty. "Well good. Perhaps now we can finish our discussions."

"Yes, of course. My apologies again."

* * *

"We have to get rid of her. We _have_ to."

Eamon scoffed, "You're angry because she insulted you Anora."

"And rightly so. She is not fit to be Queen. Surely you can see that." She paced in front of Eamon, who sat relaxed in his favourite armchair, sipping brandy out of a snifter.

"I don't know…" Anora sighed exasperatedly at his response, "Now hold on, I didn't say I don't object to her, just not for your reasons. I would simply prefer it if Alistair married someone of our choosing."

Anora stopped her frantic pacing and squared up to Eamon. "_Our_ choosing? You mean yours and my father's."

"Obviously. She has to be suitable for Alistair."

"You mean she has to be so dull she would never argue with what you have to say and would make Alistair just as dull as well."

He continued sipping casually. "Precisely. We can't have him growing a backbone, now can we."


	8. Chapter 8

_**Sorry for the lack of activity lately. I hit a bit of a block and then I went on holiday so had no internet, but I'm back now with a proper plan of action for both this and 'A New Start', so expect (hopefully) more new chapters very soon. **_

* * *

She saw little of her brother over the next few days. Fergus checked in on her around once a day, but he didn't stay for long. He said he'd been spending his time with Teagan - who was much better company than Eamon or Anora had been during their attempts at politeness - being shown around the grounds, sparring, and generally helping out his sister by keeping the man away from her for as long as possible. While the Arl's intentions seemed innocent enough, Fergus knew his sister better than anyone and unfortunately for Teagan he was not the rare target of her affections.

"He knows you know," said Fergus during one of his visits.

"Know what?"

Fergus took her tray from her lap and set it down, "That he likes you."

A faint blush rose over Eleanor's cheeks, "Ah. _That. _So he admitted it to you?"

"It, uh, came up," he coughed. "He says he heard you the other day telling me you thought you were leading him on."

"Maker, he heard that? I didn't know he was there. I thought once you'd sent for the healer he'd left, especially since Alistair turned up."

"I'm afraid not," his face scrunched up at the words, "He accompanied him to your room and when the two of them heard you say that, Alistair told him to check on Eamon and Anora. It's fair to say he was rather red in the face after that. And he still is when the topic comes up, which is why we've been helping each other. I keep him away from you and save you both the embarrassment, and he saves me from Eamon and Anora. It's a win win situation."

Eleanor asked him to pass her her lute before replying. "Please don't tell me they're coming after you now. You know I never meant to ruin things."

"No, I didn't give them chance to. Besides, they have no real reason to dislike me." Fergus handed her the instrument and she immediately began plucking at it, a small smile returning to her face. After a moment Fergus stood up, "I'll leave you to it then. I'm meeting up with Teagan again soon. I'll pass on your greetings to him."

She thanked him and kissed him goodbye before watching him leave the room once again, then returned to her lute. She played happily, her mood lifted after her brother's visit. It had been a slow day, just like the few before it, but seeing her brother reminded her that she hadn't been left alone, not quite.

A few songs later the door to her room creaked open again and a ginger head poked through. Instead of greeting her visitor, Eleanor finished her song, her guest taking a seat nearby and listening intently to her voice as she sang, his eyes flitting between her smiling face and her busy fingers. After playing the closing chords of the song she set down her lute and finally greeted her visitor. "You made it." Her smile grew as the King took her instrument from her hands and took them in his.

"I did. I'm done with business for a while. I have something exciting to tell you."

Eleanor's eyebrows raised in surprise, "Oh? Do tell."

"We're going to be hosting a ball, myself and Empress Celene, in celebration for our new partnership."

"Things went well then. I'm glad." The light in her eyes died slightly and the corners of her lips sank a little.

Alistair noticed straightaway. "What's wrong? I thought you'd be happy."

Eleanor stared at his hand as she spoke, "I am, but it's not like I can go. I've not really left this bed since I reopened my wound. I can hardly go dancing now can I?" Alistair's palm suddenly became very sweaty and his grip tightened. "Alistair? What is it?"

"I…I'm afraid I haven't been fully honest with you. You see, I came to enjoy your company so much that I asked the healer to…well, to heal you, but not _too_ quick. I just thought that if you knew you were nearly healthy again you'd want to go home. It was incredibly stupid of me and very selfish and you have every right to hate me and – "

"_Alistair_. You're rambling." She placed a finger over his lips, instantly silencing him. "You know, I should slap you right now for what you've done. Heck, I would if I didn't like you so much, which for the record, is a very rare event, just ask Fergus." He looked away from her, too ashamed to meet her eyes. She placed her palm on his cheek and brought his eyes back to hers, "I _would_ be mad, but I'm kinda happy you did do it, even if you did purposefully stop me from getting better. I got to spend more time with you, and for that I am very grateful. But next time, please tell me, okay? Otherwise I _will _slap you."

She kissed him sweetly, letting him know that she wasn't really annoyed, but if he did anything like it again he would indeed suffer the consequences. "Maker have mercy on me if I ever do anything to piss you off my lady." He raised one of her hands to his lips and began kissing her fingers in apology. "So, may I fetch the healer to _properly _heal you so you will be well enough to accompany me to the ball?"

Eleanor rolled her eyes at the sickly sweet gesture, "Fine, but you do realise I have nothing to wear right?"

"Not a problem. I can have a dress maker come in for you and make you something, or we can send for something from your home if you like, neither is a problem."

"That's very kind of you, but I don't know if I can accept such an offer. I don't want to be any more of a burden to you." She smiled nervously, a kneejerk reaction when she didn't know what to do.

His thumb stroked the back of her hand, "Nonsense. You're my guest here and that means I get to treat you whenever I like. Besides, think of it as an apology for…withholding information from you."

"Fine," she sighed. "Now get me the goddamn healer so I can move without being in pain."

Alistair nodded his affirmation then dashed out of the room, returning a while later with the healer. "…yes, I know, I _know. _You don't need to remind me Anders. Can you please just stop telling me you told me so and heal her like you wanted to in the first place?"

The healer – Anders – sighed and rubbed his temples as he entered her room. "That's why I'm here isn't it. Ahh Eleanor, he finally told you did he? Well I'm sure you'll be glad to be back in full health again at least. Now, you know the drill." He turned to Alistair, "You're probably gonna want to leave the room your majesty."

"Ah, right, of course." Alistair stammered and turned to head out of the room to wait outside her door.

"Actually ser mage, I'd like it if he could stay – if you wouldn't mind of course Alistair."

Heat rose in his cheeks as he remembered the last time he'd volunteered to help Anders with her wounds, the memory of her naked skin underneath his palms making his trousers feel a tad tight. "S-sure."

He closed the door behind him and returned to his seat beside her bed, angling himself away so he wasn't staring directly at her.

_Okay, I think this officially proves I've lost my mind. Maybe that assassin's poison infected my brain or something. Why did I think asking him to stay was a good idea? Heck, why _did _I ask him to stay? _

_Because people do stupid things when they're in love, not that you didn't do stupid things anyway. _

Anders gave the King a knowing look before turning his attention back to his patient. "Well then, looks like he's staying after all. Whoopee. Now then, may we proceed?"

Eleanor apologised and removed her nightdress, trying to ignore the fact that she could feel Alistair's eyes staring at her back.

"Okay, someone's gonna have to move here. You're in my way you grace." The healer stared at the King expectantly, waiting for him to move elsewhere.

"I'll move," blurted Eleanor. Two sets of eyes turned to her in surprise. Before she had time to think about what she was doing she covered her chest with her hands and swivelled around so she had her back to the healer…and was staring straight at Alistair. Suddenly realising the situation she'd put herself in she looked away, unable to look him in the eyes, her face and chest flushing red with embarrassment.

Anders quickly began his work. While he felt sorry for the girl she _had _brought this upon herself by asking the King to stay. Still, he wasn't heartless. It was apparent that she was realising now what she'd gotten herself into, if the colour of her torso was any indicator – which it was. He removed the dressing on her back and began inspecting her wound, grumbling to himself about how this would have cleared up two weeks ago if he'd have been allowed to do his job in the first place.

While Anders' hands danced over her back, healing and soothing as they went, he tried to make awkward small talk to ease the growing tension in the room. "So…I hear you have a reputation for taking your clothes off in front of men."

Eleanor's head whipped around so she could glare at him. "That's a lie! I mean, sure, there was that one time, but I didn't remove _all _of my clothes. Just my corset…and the skirt of my dress. But I wasn't naked! And anyway, who told you that?" she growled angrily.

"Easy there, don't hurt yourself! I was only seeing if it was true. Seems it is." Anders shook his head in disbelief. _Maker, if I didn't know already I would _not_ think this woman was nobility. _

She scowled at him and turned back to face a silent Alistair, "Look, it sounds worse than it is out of context."

Anders gave up on small talk after that, preferring instead to work in silence than have his head bitten off by his patient. The wound on her back quickly closed up and smoothed over, leaving nothing but a small pink mark where the arrow had pierced her back. "Almost done now. I just have this salve to rub on so you don't scar and I'm done."

"No," said Eleanor quickly, "leave it. I don't mind a scar."

"If you're sure…" he said, popping the cork back in the jar.

She smiled at Alistair, whose face was still as bright as her hair. "I am."

He smiled weakly back at her, making sure his eyes stayed fixed on her face and didn't drift down to her…

_No. Stop it Alistair. Control yourself man. You can get through this. And who knows, maybe one day you'll get to see her properly – _

"…Alistair. Are you alright?"

He blinked to refocus his vision and found a now clothed Eleanor looking straight at him, a worried look on her face. "I'm fine." She kissed him briefly before stepping away from him and testing out her renewed strength, twisting this way and that, ecstatic that it no longer hurt when she moved.

"I guess my work here is done then," chimed the healer, reminding them both that he was still in the room.

"Right, thank you. I'll make sure you have your salary by the end of the day, with a bonus for all your hard work."

Anders waved him off, "That's not necessary your grace. I do what I do because I enjoy helping people."

Alistair stood up and walked across the room to join the mage. "Nevertheless, you have gone above and beyond for us this last month, so I _insist_ you accept a bonus, no arguments."

He sighed, "If you're so insistent, then I ask you donate it to those who need it more than me."

"Fine," agreed Alistair, no longer bothered to fight. He held out his hand to the mage, "Thank you again."

Anders took it and shook it then left Eleanor's room, leaving her and Alistair alone again. The two of them shuffled around the room awkwardly, neither one looking directly at the other, preferring instead to inspect an imaginary speck of dirt underneath their fingernails. After what felt like an eternity of silence Eleanor spoke.

"Thank you for staying. You could have just gone. I know you probably wanted to. It was awkward, to say the least. Sorry for putting you through that."

"Nonsense," he replied quickly, "I mean – Maker – yes, I'll admit it was certainly a little awkward, but it was the least I could do. This is all my fault after all. It's my fault you're injured and it's my fault you've been cooped up in here all alone for the last month. And I did deceive you as well. So I think I was owed a little punishment."

His choice of words took her back. "Punishment? Being with me is a _punishment _for you?" She clenched her fists by her side, trying to control the rage quikcly building inside of her. _Just when I liked him as well._

"Nononono, you have it all wrong," he urged her, taking her hands in his. "Perhaps you didn't notice, but you weren't exactly clothed just then. It was…very hard to…keep my eyes upwards." His cheeks burned their signature red again, the words falling from his mouth clearly hard for him to admit.

Eleanor looked at him in disbelief. _Thank the Maker! He's not a dickhead. He's just didn't want to be caught ogling me. _A warm smile spread across her lips and she kissed his flaming cheek. "You silly man, you should have said something. I could have wrapped my dress around my front and covered up a little better."

"Yes well…anyway, if we could just move past all this awkwardness that'd be great." He cleared his throat, willing the burning in his cheeks to subside. Naturally it refused, preferring instead to torment him and display his embarrassment to Eleanor, which she giggled quietly at. "Alright, that's enough. Get dressed. I'm going to go and find you a dress maker."

She giggled as he tried – and failed – to storm out of the room, instead looking like an annoyed child stomping about. Her giggling suddenly cut off when she realised something important.

_Wait. I'm going to a ball! _


	9. Chapter 9

"This is…an unusual request serah. Are you sure this is what you want?"

Eleanor turned and examined herself in the mirror, unhappy. "Yes, I'm sure. It's missing something and that is what it needs."

The woman in front of her frowned, perplexed by her strange request. "Very well. I'll make the necessary adjustments and have it ready for you to try on again in…two, maybe three days. It will take time, but since this is urgent I will make your dress a priority."

Eleanor smiled at the dressmaker, "Thank you."

The dress maker began helping her out of her dress, making sure she didn't accidentally pull out any of her pins in the material. "I brought the masks as well for you serah. They should be to your liking."

Once she was free of the dress she wandered over to the table where the masks were laid out and began inspecting them. To her surprise, one took her eye. "Ooo, this one is pretty. And it should match perfectly with the altered dress." She picked up the mask and held it up for a closer inspection, "The stone even matches my eyes." _Well that was surprisingly easy. Much easier than sorting out the dress anyway._

The now tired woman sighed in relief, "Very good serah. I'll wrap it up for you."

Eleanor watched as she carefully wrapped packing tissue around the delicate mask and placed it inside a box just as ornate as the mask itself. The woman packed up the rest of the masks and placed them with her collection of materials and sewing gear, then made her excuses and left. The red-head had certainly been one of her tougher clients, the woman seemingly opposed to dresses in general, let alone something grand enough for a royal ball. Still, they had managed to come to a compromise in the end, although she realised now that the compromise didn't really work well in her favour.

* * *

There were so many things to get ready. It was times like this when Alistair was glad for his advisors. He, Eamon, Celene and her counsel had been working tirelessly to prepare for their ball, discussing themes and food and guests and Maker knows what else. He let Celene talk the most, the woman clear in her vision. She quickly made it clear that she was used to hosting balls, something Alistair had only done a handful of times during his rule.

While he was surprisingly excited by the idea of the ball – though he knew that was due to Eleanor's presence and not general excitement – others were not so thrilled.

"A masked ball? You must be joking, surely." Anora looked at the mask in her hand in disgust and held it away from her. "You know I hate wearing masks. They ruin my makeup."

"Come now dear, it's not so bad." Loghain pushed the mask back towards her. "You like balls."

She scoffed, "Exactly, I like balls, not _masked _balls."

"Yes, well you have to go Anora. It is expected of you as an important figure in Ferelden nobility."

Anora threw the mask at her father's feet and crossed her arms, "An important figure in Ferelden nobility? More like the ex-Queen. Do you realise how embarrassing it is for me to walk around Court and see the pity in people's eyes? I will forever be the widowed Queen who lost her throne to yet another stupid King. I practically ran this Kingdom myself when Cailan was alive. And now what? I'm relegated to the second-rate group, filled with that bumbling moron Teagan and the infuriating, so-called 'noble' Eleanor. What he sees in her I'll never know."

Loghain sighed and picked up the mask, deciding it best to put it back on its stand instead of handing it to his daughter. While he loved her more than anything in the world, she could certainly be petulant at times, and right now was most definitely one of those times.

"Anora, you have to get over this. It is clear his intentions are elsewhere now. It's not as if she's unsuitable. She is nobility and from a good family. I know. Her father and I have been friends for years. She is not this devil you make her out to be. You are simply jealous, and jealously will get you nowhere my dear."

"Just you wait and see," she muttered quietly, "just you wait."

* * *

The next few days passed in a hurried blur for Alistair. There was so much to do and so little time to do it in. To his surprise, nothing had really gone wrong yet. Nothing had got broken, nothing was missing, and he had only embarrassed himself once – a new record. Unfortunately, because of the ball preparation his time with Eleanor had been limited. Still, he knew that Fergus and Teagan were looking after her, so it was better than nothing.

To her joy, Alistair had worked it so Eleanor could visit their training yard and build up her lost strength while he was busy. She spent as much time as she could there, working on her sword arm and challenging herself by trying to duel wield two long swords. Whenever he could he came and watched her practice, her graceful twirling reminding him why he first fell for her. She danced with the blades, like a rogue wielding their daggers, but with the strength of a warrior. She was a joy to watch, but a small part of him wondered how she'd cope in a real fight. From what he'd gathered she had little real fighting experience, either because she wasn't allowed to fight or because her father and brother had killed their enemies before she could.

* * *

He and Empress Celene stood on a raised platform as the guests arrived. Behind them sat two thrones, Alistair's own and a surprisingly portable one – surprising because of its size – which Celene had brought with her to Ferelden just in case. Eventually he gave up and sat down, a servant rushing to provide him with a drink. His bodyguard followed him and stood beside his throne, surveying the room from his vantage point. Ever since the incident with the Crow, Loghain and Eamon had insisted he have a bodyguard, especially when out in public. While he still disliked the idea, it did feel reassuring to know that someone was keeping an eye out for him even when he wasn't.

Once the bulk of the guests had arrived, the orchestra playing in the background changed their pace, swapping from gentle background music to a bright dance melody. Celene looked expectantly at Alistair from beneath her jewelled mask and he held out his hand for her. The King led the Empress to the centre of the room and he prayed silently to the Maker that all his rushed dance lessons had paid off and that he wouldn't make a fool out of himself.

Together they led the opening dance, the two of them twirling around the room in dizzying circles. Alistair tried not to let his internal terror show, but it was very difficult. The Empress' dress, while extravagant and beautiful, was not easy to dance in, at least not from his point of view. The royal seemed to be used to dancing in such things, but for Alistair it was simply a chore not to step on her hem and ruin her dress and the entire night.

To his relief, the song came to a close and a new song began, signalling for the guests to join them on the dance floor, allowing Alistair to sneak off. While he could dance, he only did so when necessary and would happily take mingling over dancing any day – although if he could get out of both then he would do just that. Knowing the situation was unavoidable, he plastered his most convincing smile on his face and began mingling with his guests.

* * *

She smiled when she spotted him across the room. He looked so helpless, like a deer staring at a hunter's bow. He was surrounded by a group of chattering nobles, each one eager to win his attention. She strolled across the room leisurely and pushed through the circle of vultures, boldly kissing him on the cheek and marking him as hers. The nobles scattered, muttering as they left and Alistair smiled as he took in the red hair.

"Finally! What took you so long?" he sighed, exhaling in relief.

She smiled sweetly, her mask showing nothing but her ruby smile. "I'm sorry. I had a wardrobe malfunction. They didn't wear you down too much did they?"

"No," he said, taking her gloved hand in his. "You look…stunning, by the way." He looked her up and down, taking in her unusual choice of attire. She wore a neck high, gold brocade dress with full sleeves that met her lace gloves, and that brushed along the floor. Sticking out from the bottom of her dress were a pair of dainty shoes that seemed to have a heel which raised Eleanor to closer to his height. Covering the majority of her face was an ornate golden mask, with swirling patterns that emphasised where her cheekbones would be. Behind it her fiery hair was tied up in an extravagant bun, with tiny braids decorating her temple and golden jewels in her hair. _Very unlike Eleanor..._

Her smile broadened, "Thank you Alistair. You look very handsome yourself, if I may say so." It was true. Despite his dislike of such events, he suited them, the King looking the part in his finery. "Although, your shirt seems a little tight. Have you put on weight?"

"No," he coughed, pulling at his shirt uncomfortably.

"And…did you shave Alistair? You did a shoddy job if you did." She stroked his chin roughly, her lace catching on the faint stubble there.

He grabbed her wrist and held her hand away from his face, "Look, I don't know what you're playing at, but stop it. This isn't you."

A flash of green and red in the corner of his eye drew his attention. He quickly glanced at it before returning his gaze to the golden mask in front of him. _No. This really isn't you. _

"What do you mean 'this isn't me'? Of course it's me," she pleaded innocently, batting her eyelashes beneath her mask.

"Yuh-huh, you keep telling yourself that. I'm going to go and mingle. Enjoy your evening, _Eleanor._"

Before she could protest Alistair had dropped her wrist and walked away towards the exit.

She was stood looking through the open doors, staring at the night sky. From behind he could see her fiery hair trailing down her back and over what appeared to be a metal corset. He coughed to alert her of his presence and she turned casually to face him.

Words caught at the back of his throat. "Maker…" he breathed, his voice full of awe. There was no doubt that _this _was Eleanor. She wore a simple, but beautiful green dress, the colour a similar shade to her eyes. While the dress itself was simple, its main feature was not. Over the top of the dress sat a metal corset which cinched in her waist and emphasised her hips with exaggerated curved panels. Around her forearms were metals bands of the same material, and both items had swirling vines engraved in them in a faint gold. The skirt of the dress itself boasted no such thing, but it did have a large slit that rose past her knees and revealed a pair of black leather boots with a tiny heel underneath.

"So, just how full of shit is she?" she asked, frowning slightly beneath her mask.

Alistair chuckled, "Very. Her outfit alone gives her away." He closed the gap between them and held out his hand for her, which she accepted. He laced his fingers through hers, wondering how in the Maker's name Anora had ever thought she'd be able to impersonate such a beautiful woman.

"Fucking cow. What did she say to you?" Her fingers tightened rhythmically around his. The woman really made her blood boil sometimes and right now was one of those times. _Who does that? Dressing up as someone else to what – ruin their relationship? Fuck. _

He stroked the back of her hand comfortingly with his thumb, trying what little he could to calm her down. "Petty things. She started insulting my appearance, saying I've gotten fat and that I need a shave. Honestly she didn't need to open her mouth for me to know she wasn't you, but doing so just confirmed that it. I mean, what is she wearing? Seriously." They both turned to look at her over their shoulders and laughed, her outfit extravagant enough to rival an Orlesians. "Who wears that? She looks like a fluffy, golden Broodmother."

"A what?" asked Eleanor, puzzled.

"They're large female Darkspawn with multiple breasts and tentacles and spit acid."

She burst out laughing at that, the image seemingly appropriate for the Queen Bitch. "Oh, that is too good!" she said in between breaths. "That almost makes me not want to slap her."

"You can't just slap her love. There's this thing called 'social conventions' that unfortunately we have to adhere to, at least right now."

She pouted in disappointment, her rosy lips forming a tempting bud. Instinctively Alistair kissed it. She froze briefly in shock before realising what was happening and melted at his touch, her lips opening up for him. They lost themselves in each other, their eyes closing as they let the bliss of their touch envelop them.

_Oh Teagan, you look so handsome tonight. Is this new? _

Anora's shrill voice pierced through their magical bubble and ran straight down Eleanor's spine, causing her to shiver involuntarily in disgust. She broke away from Alistair's touch and searched the room for the gilded ex-Queen. She found her in a corner with Teagan, stroking his arm flirtingly and laughing girlishly.

_Ooo, that's firm. Let me have another feel._

"That's it."

Her eyes flashed dangerously beneath her mask, bloody murder most definitely in her eyes. Before she could storm into the room Alistair wrapped an arm around her waist and pinned her to him. "You can't go over there and say anything."

She squirmed in his grip, annoyed that he could pin her so easily with just one arm. "I'm not going to say anything. I'm going to slap her."

_Oh Teagan! Your company is far more _pleasurable _than Alistair's. _

"For fucks sake! That's it! I'm putting an end to this." Using all of her strength she wormed her way out of Alistair's grip and stormed over to where Anora was tormenting Teagan, her dress billowing behind her and revealing the pale, creamy skin of her legs.

"You slimy weasel! What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Anora whirled around, startled, and stared at her in terror. Teagan looked between the two women in confusion, somehow fooled by Anora's costume. _The poor man. This is not helping him. _

"Teagan, I'm sorry about her," she added calmly, wanting to clear that up before dealing with the Queen Bitch. Anora took advantage of her distraction and tried to sneak away, but Eleanor grabbed her wig and pulled her back. The ex-Queen yelped in pain, her real hair caught beneath the wig, which Eleanor gave a good tug to remove. A group of nobles nearby gasped in shock as the identity of the fake was revealed, shaming the once renowned noblewoman.

"I am not done with you. I'm not stupid. I know that you tried to ruin my relationship with Alistair. And now here you are, trying to lead on Teagan as well. Have you no shame?" She tried not to shout, but it was so hard. She was so pissed off. She'd never truly thought the woman could sink to such levels, yet the proof was right there in her hand in the form of that bright red wig.

Anora pulled off her mask, its purpose now gone. "Me? Have _I_ no shame? Says the woman showing more skin than a _whore_! You are no noblewoman Eleanor Cousland and you are certainly not the sort of woman who is fit to be Queen!" She stiffened her back, "Yes, I tried to interfere with you and Alistair, but it's for his own good. I would rather die than see you marry him!"

"That is a bold statement, and one I can gladly help you with," said Eleanor darkly.

"Why you – " Anora started towards Eleanor, intending to do she-didn't-know what to her, but was cut off mid-sentence by a painful slash across her face. She touched her cheek gently, the whole left side of her face stinging painfully at the contact.

Eleanor lowered her hand and flexed her fingers, the slap more powerful than she'd initially thought, leaving her palm stinging a little. She bared her teeth in warning at the noblewoman, who stared at her a moment longer, then turned and ran out of the room cradling the side of her face.

She noticed suddenly that the music had stopped and everyone in the room was just…staring.

After what seemed like an eternity a woman cleared her throat and told the orchestra to keep playing.

A hand grabbed hers and began leading her to the dance floor, "Come on. Dance with me."

Eleanor turned to see who was leading her off and her mouth fell open. _Oh shit. Me and my big mouth. _


	10. Chapter 10

_**Note: this chapter was actually part of the previous one, but it just became too long so I decided to split it in half. This one ended up a tad shorter, but I don't think it's a problem. Enjoy :) **_

* * *

A bright blush spread across her face, showing through the metal filigree of her mask. "_General Mac Tir._ I am so sor-"

"Just dance Lady Cousland." He spun her around and pulled her into a dance hold, his hand on her shoulder blade, his other hand taking hers, leading her in the current dance.

"I am so sorry for slapping your daughter, General."

He scoffed, "No you're not. From the look on your face, I'd say you rather enjoyed it actually." She didn't answer and he nodded, her silence confirming his words. "I don't blame you. Anora was being childish. Whilst I love my daughter, she can be very silly at times. She had it in her mind that you are her rival and as you have seen, she will go to extreme lengths to defeat you. Don't worry, she should be done for a while now. You wounded her ego. She'll need to regain her strength before making another attempt at you."

"I just got so mad. She had it in her head that I'm a threat to her, but I really don't see it." Loghain steered them out of the path of an oncoming couple, then carried on with the routine.

"She was to marry Alistair, but he said no. Now she thinks you will be marrying him. Therefore that makes you her rival." He sighed, as if tired of the topic, "Honestly, I just wish she could go about this all in a mature manner, rather than resorting to petty insults and costumes. Honestly, she looked ridiculous."

"I just don't understand why she keeps getting involved in mine and Alistair's personal lives. I don't even fully think we know what we have right now, and her trying to interfere does not help – though I suppose that was the point of her actions."

Loghain sighed again. He was sick of her childish behaviour. It was not the first time she had gotten jealous and resorted to childish measures, but this was a new level for her. "I am sorry for her. For what it's worth, I fully support yours and Alistair's relationship. You are aware of my relationship with your father, yes? Well if you are anything like Bryce, you'll make a good ruler."

Eleanor blushed and stammered her thanks, amazed that the Hero of Riverdane, the General to the Royal Army, thought she'd be a good leader. "Oh yes, I almost forgot. Speaking of the your father, he was looking for you earlier."

She eyes began darting around the room, looking for him. "What? Father's here?"

"Yes, as is your mother. They were eager to see you again." The song came to an end and Loghain's hold dropped. He bowed, "Lady Cousland. Thank you for the dance."

After a brief falter she curtseyed in return, "No, thank _you_ General."

He left without another word, probably to try and find his daughter and deal with her absurdity, leaving Eleanor to search for her parents. It took less time than she'd expected, her mother's piercing voice signalling their location. "...you know, I keep trying to convince her she suits dresses, but she never listens to me. Perhaps if you keep telling her how nice she looks in them she'll start wearing them more often. Oh, Eleanor dear, there you are!"

Eleanor's mother rushed to her and pulled her into a tight hug. Despite Eleanor's opinion of her she truly had missed her while she'd been gone and it was good to see her daughter again.

Before Eleanor had a chance to speak her mother had already started again, "What is this I hear about you slapping the Queen? Maker, say it isn't true! And what are you wearing? That slit is hardly appropriate young lady."

"Dear," Bryce interrupted his rambling wife, "your daughter's fine. Be happy. Please. You're making a scene." He turned to his daughter, "Hello pup. You look well."

Eleanor flung her arms around her father and hugged him fiercely, Bryce chuckling at her enthusiasm and wrapping his arms around her in return. "So, about you slapping this woman…"

His arms unwound from her and he looked his guilty daughter in the eye. "It wasn't my fault. She was impersonating me and messing in mine and my friends' affairs." She equipped her best puppy eyes, hoping they had the desired effect – like always.

"It's true Teyrn Cousland," chimed in a familiar voice. "Anora has been doing her best to provoke Eleanor, and ever since she discovered her temper she's been doing her best to try and disgrace her. However, she proved tonight that that is easier said than done as her plan backfired on her and it was _she_ who was shamed, not your wonderful daughter."

_Wonderful? _

"Eleanor, the King here was telling us about how well behaved you've been for him. Miracles really do happen it seems. Why can't you behave yourself at home?"

The red-head glared at her mother, though from where she was stood the impact was lost on the Teyrna due to her mask obstructing her eyes. "Can we please change the topic mother? Surely you can bore Alistair with how mischievous I apparently am later."

The King chuckled at her annoyance. He took her hand in his and kissed it tenderly, "Actually, the tales of your childhood are rather entertaining." An amused smile lit up his eyes. While she wanted to punch him in the arm for laughing at her mother's tales, she simply couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead she opted for a warning glare and a hushed threat to walk away now or suffer for it later. He barely stifled a laugh, but heeded her warning, "Bryce, Eleanor, it's been a pleasure to talk with you, but I'm afraid your daughter desires my company. We'll carry on this discussion later." He shot her a charming grin, but Teyrna Cousland practically shoved the two of them together and away from them. She and her husband watched as they walked away from them.

"Dear look. A miracle has happened. Our girl actually seems to like the man!"

Bryce watched his daughter leave with the King, their hands interlinked between them as they walked. He said something joking to her and she punched him weakly in the arm, muttering something that sounded like "I warned you" to him, which only served to make him laugh even more. His laughter seemed infectious, his normally angry and serious daughter joining him in his joviality. She seemed so happy, _genuinely_ happy with him.

He didn't often agree with his wife when it came to their daughter and her love life, but for once he agreed with her. Miracles can happen.

* * *

"You shouldn't encourage her. She'll tell you every tiny little aspect of my childhood now and believe me, it's not that interesting."

Alistair led her up a set of stairs that brought them to a small but private balcony that overlooked the ballroom. Beneath them the ball continued, and while it had been fun, it was nice to escape from the crowds and spend some time alone, above the chatter and the music.

Eleanor leaned against the railing of the balcony and watched the people below, seeing who she could recognise. Alistair came up behind her and leaned over her, his arms settling on either side of her and his chin resting on her shoulder. She turned her head to look at him, not expecting him to be quite as close as he was, then turned her attention back to the floor.

"Maybe I want to know all I can about you," he said eventually.

She swallowed nervously, her heart rate picking up and her breath coming a little harder. "I'd rather tell you about my past myself than have mother do it. What would you like to know?"

"Oh, where to start? When did you decide you wanted to learn how to fight?"

"When I was fourteen. Fergus had recently been given a sword for his birthday and I got jealous, saying I'd rather learn how to use one of those than how to dance. Of course mother forbade it, but I begged father to teach me and eventually he gave in."

"But you seem to have retained _some _of your mother's training. You've handled yourself as any noblewoman would tonight – minus the Anora incident. You can dance, you know which cutlery to use and when, you play the lute. Those seem like things your mother would have taught you, or am I wrong?"

Eleanor sighed, "I never cared to learn them, but I still paid _some _attention. I wasn't stupid. I knew I'd have to know how to dance and how to carry myself in formal situations. Truth be told I acted like I did with mother because it annoyed her, which gave me great delight. As for the lute, it was the one thing she taught me that I enjoyed. It's a...private pleasure of mine."

"Private pleasure? Yet...you played in front of me."

He could feel the heat rising on her cheeks. "Yeah…I guess I did."

Alistair nudged her cheek playfully with his, making her look at him. "Any particular reason why?"

Instead of the stammered answer he was expecting, she ducked down and out from his arms, moving away to the back corner of the balcony area. "Enough questions." She folded her arms and looked everywhere but at him.

Slowly, trying not to spook her, he closed the gap between them. "Why?"

She backed up further until her back hit a wall, "Because I don't feel comfortable answering that question, that's why." Her voice was a quiet growl, but inside she was terrified.

"But you answered my other questions Eleanor and you said you'd answer _all_ my questions. Why not that one?" He edged closer to her then stopped a few inches away from her, close enough to pin her, but far enough away to give her breathing room.

"Because," she nearly shouted, "I don't know why myself. Okay?" She sighed, resigning herself to answering his question after all. "Look, this is all new to me. I don't know what to do with what I feel for you. I've never loved anyone outside of my family and a close circle of friends before."

Alistair stared at her in amazement, his eyes wide and bright. "You love me?" A small, hopeful smile tugged at the corners of his lips, threatening to spread across his face.

"I…I didn't say that," she said weakly, her cheeks burning beneath her mask. "I never…I…"

Grinning from ear to ear, Alistair closed the few inches between them and ceased her face in his hands. He lowered his face so his lips hovered over hers, so close that he could feel the heat from her cheeks burn his own. "You definitely said it. But it's okay love, you don't have to say it. I know that you feel it, and that's good enough for me."

They weren't sure who closed the gap first, whether it was Alistair's lips crashing against hers or Eleanor pulling him down to meet her, a flood of joy washing over her at his words. She didn't know how to say the words to him yet, but she could at least try and show him. Her hands grasped at him desperately, clutching at his broad shoulders as his tongue begged her for entrance to her mouth. She answered him with a low moan which sent a shiver down Alistair's spine.

* * *

"Look at them. They seem so happy. I wonder what they were discussing before they began…_that_."

Anora looked to where Eamon was staring and snorted, "How sickening." She sneered once more at the couple, clinging to one another in a dark corner, then turned away.

"I don't know if that's the word I'd use. He's happy, judging by the grin that's been on his face whenever he's been around her tonight." His eyes remained fixed on the couple. He'd been observing them all night, noting how the King's demeanour changed whenever he was around the noblewoman, how when they were alone his hardened, sarcastic shell softened and he smiled brilliant, gleaming smiles that most of them only saw on the rarest of occasions.

"Surely you aren't going to let this continue," asked Anora in a hushed voice.

Eamon finally tore his gaze away from the two lovebirds. "Of course not."

The ex-Queen spotted her father talking to Eleanor's parents, the two men laughing and exchanging stories. "You do realise you no longer have your father's support," said Eamon casually. Anora looked between him and her father, hurt. "I overheard him talking with Miss Cousland not long after you fled the ballroom earlier on. He said he believes she will be a good ruler."

Anora sighed and hung her head, "Oh father. She's even charmed you. We have to act fast Eamon."

"Oh don't worry. I already have a plan in motion."

* * *

**_P.S. I read 'The Stolen Throne' and now have a new appreciation for Loghain. Don't have me for portraying him as a good guy. I've already done that by having him not be a dick and pull out at Ostagar. _**


	11. Chapter 11

After the ball, the Empress remained in Denerim for a few more days before deciding it was time to leave. While Alistair saw her off, Eleanor caught up with her parents, filling them in on her time at the Palace – carefully editing a few parts so she didn't shock them too much. Her mother grinned with joy whenever Alistair's name came up, especially when Eleanor told her how much he'd looked after her and how he'd taken time out of his very busy schedule to stay with her. Her father's happiness was less obvious, especially to anyone who didn't know him well enough, but it was there none the less, especially since he knew something she didn't.

"Of course, now you're better you can come home," he said mid-conversation.

Eleanor stared at him for a moment, her smile faltering slightly, before her face returned to its previous expression. "Of course. I'm better now. I have no reason to be here anymore." She tried not to let her smile falter again, but she could feel her lip threatening to quiver and a lump gathering in the back of her throat. _Don't be silly Eleanor. He's right. You have no reason to be here anymore. _

_Except…him. Ahh, balls._

"Come now dear, are you sure she's well? I mean, she still looks a little peaky to me." For once her mother's transparent attempts at hooking up her daughter were welcome, but as always her father shot her down.

"Look at her dear. She's perfectly fine. You know full well that she's just naturally pale. Now stop making excuses to try and keep her here."

A quiet knock prevented his wife from arguing back. "Sorry. Am I interrupting?" asked Alistair hesitantly. Bryce shook his head and greeted the King, inviting him to join them. "Actually I was wondering if I can steal your daughter for a while."

"Yes! Take her!"

Bryce chuckled awkwardly at his wife's over-enthusiasm, "What my wife _meant_ was, 'By all means. Don't mind us', didn't you dear?" She happily agreed, her annoyance forgotten with the appearance of the King.

Eleanor hid her face behind her hand at her mother's outburst, then quickly joined Alistair in the doorway. He offered her his arm, sparing a knowing nod to the Teyrn before leading her to the Armoury.

Despite having only been there a few times, Eleanor would miss the Armoury the most when she left - aside from Alistair of course. She had never seen such beautiful sets of armour before, nor did she think she ever would do. Each one glittered and shined, the metal polished to perfection, so much so that you could see your reflection in the chestplates.

To her surprise, a new set of armour had appeared in the armoury. It was a beautiful set of dragonbone armour, inlaid with faintly glowing runes. With it sat two longswords – also new – which seemed to be made of dragonbone as well, if the matching colour was any indication. They too had faintly glowing runes inlaid into them, which grew in brightness as she gently stroked the flat of the one of the blades.

"Impressive, isn't it?" said Alistair causally, noticing her eyeing up the armour. He smirked to himself.

"It's beautiful…"

Alistair continued smirking, "So you like the armour and blades then?"

Eleanor ran her hand over the chestplate, amazed at how sturdy yet light the material felt. "Put it on." She whipped her head around to stare at Alistair, "Go on. It should fit over your clothes, they're not too thick. Here, let me help you."

Before she could comprehend what was happening he had taken the chestplate off the armour stand and was helping her into it, fastening its buckles and securing the piece around her. Eventually she found her voice, "Alistair, are you sure this is alright?"

"Of course it is. Come on, let's put the full thing on."

Dumbfounded she helped him put the armour onto her, Eleanor taking the greaves and Alistair taking the pauldrons and gauntlets. Alistair hummed happily while he worked, the smirk on his face growing into a full blown grin. When he'd secured the final buckle around her wrist he stepped back to admire their work. Eleanor continued to fiddle with a few of the straps, adjusting them so they sat a little more comfortably.

She stared at her gauntlet-clad hands, turning them over this way and that, amazed at how perfectly the dragonbone armour fit her. "Alistair…" she said quietly, still staring at her hand, "why does this armour fit me?"

His humming stopped. "Well...that's because it's yours."

Eleanor's hand stilled its turning and her mouth fell open in shock. Slowly she turned to face Alistair. "Come again?"

"That armour. It's yours. As are the blades that go with it."

"No..._My_ armour is made of red steel. _This,_" she held out her hand, "is dragonbone! This can't be mine."

He took her bone-clad hand in his, "Well it is. I had it made for you, actually. I'm guessing you like it, judging by the drool hanging off your lip."

Eleanor pulled her hand out from his and began frantically undoing the buckles around each gauntlet. "I can't – this is – _Alistair. _This is ridiculous. I can't accept – " While she managed to undo the first buckle, she struggled with the second fastening, her shaking hands making it difficult to grip anything. A frustrated growl escaped her lips and she threw her arms in the air, giving in. "_Fuck_."

Alistair placed a tender hand on her shoulder, which she attempted to shrug off, but he held onto the sturdy pauldron there. "I _can't_ accept this. This is _dragonbone! _I know how much this stuff costs and I am not going to put myself in that much debt to you. I already owe you for so much."

"You owe me nothing. Any gifts I have given you so far have been just that – gifts. As for the armour, you're accepting it. You have to. It was made for you. I won't take no as an answer." The pained expression on Eleanor's face didn't subside. "Look, if it helps I didn't pay for the materials. I found them…on a dead High Dragon…which I killed."

Her mouth fell open again, "I'm not even gonna…_fuck_." Realising how serious he was, she gave in arguing. The armour was beautiful after all, and hers. Literally. It fit her perfectly, like her red steel armour did, which she realised was probably how he got a hold of her measurements. _Well then…who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?_

She closed her jaw with a click and tried her most convincing smile, "So what's the occasion then? A girl doesn't get dragonbone armour for nothing last time I checked."

Alistair paused a moment, surprised by her sudden acceptance, then continued. "Well, I remember how much you liked some of the sets we have here, and I thought a Queen deserves her own set."

His words registered in her brain, "But I'm not a…" She trailed off as he knelt on one knee before her.

"I know, but I'd like you to be. I'd like you to be my Queen actually, if you'd have me." Alistair reached inside his jacket and retrieved a small red velvet box, which he opened and presented to Eleanor. Inside sat a ring with a large emerald set in the centre. "I know things have been a little…unconventional with us, but I hope that hasn't put you off of me. So…will you marry me?"

She stared at him dumbstruck. She'd never had a man propose to her before; she'd always managed to put them off before they had a chance to even entertain the idea of marriage. But Alistair had been different from the start. She'd actually liked him. He hadn't been like all the pompous twats she'd met. Even from the start she'd entertained the idea of marrying him…_ And now he's actually asking you. _

To her surprise, her answer came easily, "Yes."

Alistair's eyes widened in surprise, "Really? I mean – " Eleanor cut him off by pulling him up by his collar and crushing her lips against his before loosening her hold on him. "I don't think you know how happy you've made me love."

He took the ring out of its box – carefully so his shaking hands didn't drop it – and tried to put it on Eleanor's finger, the two of them laughing when they realised how it was impossible whilst wearing her gauntlets. Deciding it best to take the armour off, Alistair put the ring back in its box then helped her undo the fastenings and placed the armour back on its stand. She ran a tender hand over breastplate once more before returning her attention to the King. He held out his hand for her to take, which she did. "Let's try this again shall we," he chuckled. Still a little shaky, he took the ring out of the box – again – and slid it onto Eleanor's finger.

"It fits," she said, surprised.

Alistair scratched the back of his head awkwardly, "Yeah, I sorta asked the healer to measure your ring size while you were asleep one time. I swear, it sounds creepier than it was."

"Well, I suppose I can forgive you. After all, the ring _is _beautiful." She smiled and held her hand out to admire the ring. The longer she looked at it, the more the urge to laugh increased. _I'm engaged. I'm going to get married. I'm going to marry the King of Ferelden. This is a dream, it has to be. There's no way this is real. It can't be. I never like any of the men my mother tries to get me to marry. _

He watched, confused, as his new fiancée laughed hysterically at seemingly nothing. "Erm, Eleanor? Are you okay? You've been laughing to yourself for five minutes now."

Her laughter quietened, "Hmmm? Sorry, yeah, I was just wondering when I'm going to wake up, 'cause I swear this can't be real."

He took her hand – which was still held out – in his and kissed it, grinning at the sight of his ring on her finger. "Eleanor, trust me, you are awake."

Her gaze focused on his face, blinking a few times as if trying to register her surroundings. "This is really happening? I'm not dreaming?"

"No."

"I'm awake? Are you sure?"

"_Yes." _Alistair placed his hands on her shoulders and shook her a little too roughly. "I'm sorry, I just…didn't know what else to do. You went into a sort of…state of shock."

Eleanor shook her head to clear her mind of the excitement and confusion bouncing around her skull. "Right. Sorry. I just…my brain is having a hard time keeping up with all of this. I never really thought I'd want to marry anyone, let alone wholeheartedly say yes when asked by someone – and the _King_, as well. _Maker_! Does mother know? Obviously father does, but did you ask her as well? I imagine not, and knowing father he won't have told her yet. He'll leave that to me – or us – so he can see her reaction which will undoubtedly be priceless."

She stopped talking when she realised that Alistair was just watching her, chuckling quietly to himself at her nervous rambling. "Are you done now?" he asked, still laughing. Eleanor nodded silently, her cheeks burning brighter than her hair. "Good. Now, care to take a stroll with me? You can return to drooling over your new gear later if you like."

"I wasn't drooling," she said weakly, wiping her mouth with her sleeve just in case. Alistair held out his arm for her, which she took, and he led her out of the Armoury. The two of them strolled, arms linked together, aimlessly though the Palace, talking about everything and nothing. Occasionally one of them would mention something that they thought would be good for the wedding, like what sort of flowers they should have or what colour scheme would be good. They passed a few familiar faces on their walk: an annoyed looking Anora, sat out in the sunshine, reading a book and sparing a brief disgusted glance at the happy couple; Teagan, who smiled weakly when they passed him in a corridor, the red-head noticing immediately the shining rock on Eleanor's finger and sighing sadly when they'd passed by.

Eventually they found their way to the drawing room where Eleanor's parents were waiting for her before they bid her goodbye and rode back to Highever. Alistair nodded slyly to Bryce when they entered the room, taking Eleanor's left hand in his and wrapping his hand around it, hiding the ring on her finger.

"Well it's about time you came to see us. We're leaving soon," complained Teyrna Cousland, her annoyance directed at the King as much as her daughter.

"My apologies Eleanor. We were so busy talking I guess we lost track of time."

Eleanor stifled a laugh – poorly – and grinned at Alistair, causing her mother to scowl even harder at her. "Yes, well it would be nice to actually have some time with you before we leave."

"Maybe I should leave you to it," mumbled Alistair to Eleanor.

Her hand flew to cover his, stopping him from leaving. "No, you're going to want to see this." She gave a knowing wink to her father before sitting down in front of her mother.

"What are you up to? What is he going to want to see?" She looked between the people in the room, asking her husband and son if they knew what she was on about. Fergus shook his head, confused, while Bryce simply told her to wait and see with a small smile on his face.

"Mother," the Teyrna's head stopped whipping around and stilled on her daughter, "I – _we -_ have something to tell you." Alistair removed his hand from over Eleanor's, revealing the ring on her finger, which her mother's eyes immediately honed in on.

"Oh blessed sweet Andraste, it's finally happening! Please say this is really happening!"

Eleanor chuckled as her mother began nearly hyperventilating with joy, "Yes mother, this is really happening. We're engaged."

* * *

"Have you heard the news Eamon?"

"Who hasn't? He's not shut up about it all day." Eamon sighed and took a long swig of his drink. He was already tired of this talk. It had been all he'd heard from the King since he'd practically danced into the war room and sang about his engagement to everyone there.

Loghain poured himself a glass as well and leaned back in his armchair, "I think it's wonderful. They're a good match for one another and quite frankly I think it's time he found a wife. I'll admit, when he refused to let us have a say in his love life I was annoyed, but he's pulled through in the end and chosen someone more than suitable to be Queen."

"But what about your Anora? Surely you think she should be marrying him and not this Cousland girl."

It was Loghain's turn to sigh this time, "Again with this Eamon. I can accept that my daughter won't be marrying him, why can't you?"

Eamon leaned forward to confront the General. "I just think it would be better if she were Queen, or at least someone of our choosing. This Cousland girl is wild and uncontrollable. She is not what we need on the throne."

"Uncontrollable? Who said we're controlling anyone Eamon, hmm?" He watched the noble shift uncomfortably in his seat. "Is that why you wanted Anora to marry him? Because she's on your side. Maker Eamon, I didn't think you were like this."

"I'm not," he snapped, "I simply want what's best for Ferelden. If that means tying the Theirin bloodline to a woman who has spent years ruling the Kingdom, then that's what I'll do. But this Cousland girl, she is not good for Ferelden. She is wild and will throw things out of balance unless we act fast."

Loghain stared at him in disbelief. This was not the man he knew. Something had changed in him and made him bitter, warped his view of things. He watched Eamon stare into the fireplace, lost in his own thoughts, sipping at his drink every now and then.

_What are you planning Eamon…?_

* * *

**_I swear, I'm gonna stop writing sappy stuff soon. I realised how sweet this chapter really is (why do all my chapters turn out longer than I intended!?) so some action will be coming your way soon - hopefully...if I stop dragging out chapters loads more than intended._**


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